


Tales from Starling City

by ferggirl



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Drabbles, F/M, unrelated one shots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-23
Updated: 2014-01-13
Packaged: 2017-12-24 09:10:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 52
Words: 30,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/938174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferggirl/pseuds/ferggirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A place for my Arrow drabbles. These are usually from tumblr prompts or silly ideas that I need to get out of my head to concentrate on my stories. They'll be multiple pairings, some AU, some fluff... but Felicity tends to be involved in most of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tommy/Felicity: Heat of Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: It's the hottest summer on record in Starling City and as few clothes as possible is the only way to cope. Also, the heat is making certain individuals want things they hadn't expected to want before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt from absentlyabbie on tumblr

This was hell, right?

Felicity Smoak lay on the cool wood floor of her living room, a perspiring glass of water on the table next to her. She had three fans going, all of the windows open, and she had officially given up on pants.

What had she been thinking, leasing an apartment with no air conditioning?

Well, she’d been thinking it was $300 a month cheaper than that swanky 1-bedroom downtown…

But oh  _god_ , if she only had a time machine.

It was Saturday, mid-afternoon, the worst of the heat. She’d already called her actual boss to see if she could put in a day at air-conditioned Queen Consolidated (he’d informed her that the floor was being fumigated and she was under  _no circumstances_ to go near her office until Monday). Oliver and Diggle were away on a weekend trip to the Caribbean for Thea’s birthday (since he was going to be out of town, Oliver had changed the combination on the basement at the club and told her to take the weekend off when she asked what it was). 

Stupid Oliver. Trying to be all generous. 

He hadn’t been able to come up with a good reason for her to get on that jet to the Bahamas, though. Diggle had promised to bring her back presents. 

She’d never really been the island vacation type, but right now an ocean breeze and a cold alcoholic beverage sounded just about right.

She reviewed her options: go see a movie? Nothing good out right now. Go shopping? All that walking and driving and parking and pretending to care. It was too hot to care. Go to a bar? Or a pool? Or a bar IN a pool?

Hmmm.

**

Thirty minutes later she was sitting in the driver’s seat of her Mini, wearing the shortest shorts and a little white tank top over her bathing suit, a towel in the passenger seat. 

She pulled into Verdant’s parking lot and grinned when she saw the “re-opening soon” sign still up. The small fire last week had not done much damage, but Oliver and Tommy had agreed to wait a week before throwing the doors back open. They wanted buzz. It would be empty tonight.

Her key still got her in the back door of the club, even though she didn’t have the code for downstairs. She glowered at the red light indicating that the a/c was off upstairs, and then went digging in the supply closet. 

The kiddie pool was right where she’d remembered it, tossed aside when Tommy’s suggestion of jello wrestling was overridden by Oliver’s eyeroll. She dragged it out to the middle of the dance floor and unfolded it, checking for leaks. It wasn’t hard to rig up a “hose” from the bar tap, although it was filing very slowly. Still, soon enough she was shivering happily with a beer and three inches of freezing cold water.

She’d almost relaxed enough to doze off when she felt a cold drop hit her bare stomach. She cracked one eye open and yelped as Tommy Merlyn dumped a glass full of water on her head.*

"Hi, Felicity. Yes, sure you can use my closed club as your own private and rather unsanitary pool party. Please, dive into the liquor. So nice of you to call." He was sharply dressed, his crisp shorts and t-shirt showing no sign of the triple-digit heat. 

"Sorry?" she tried, not sure if he was kidding. "But to be fair, I don’t officially have your number. And I was careful to check that it wouldn’t slosh out and damage the floor, and you guys haven’t turned the A/C on."

He grinned down at her, sliding off his shoes and socks to step in and wet his feet. 

"Ahh, that is nice." 

"How did you know I was here?"

"We’ve got an alarm system in place, since no one’s supposed to be in over the weekend. Oliver’s a little paranoid."

She sighed and took the hand he was offering her to stand up. “I don’t have air conditioning. And Oliver didn’t let me stow away on the jet.”

They were a lot closer than she expected, and for just a moment she caught his eyes drifting lower.

Then he was speaking, looking straight at her, and she thought she must have imagined it.

"Well, Miss Smoak, far be it from me to tell on a beautiful woman in a cute bikini. I’ll just have you owe me one." He stepped out onto the spare towel she’d thrown to the side. "By the way, how were you planning to drain this?"

"Shit." She flushed. "I honestly hadn’t gotten that far."

He laughed and turned off the tap behind the bar. “We’ll let the crew on Monday deal with it. Come on, I know the manager at a hotel with a swim-up bar and a really good ice cream selection.”

_And, I’m in love._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a special drabble AU where there’s Tommy, and he’s not with Laurel but he is with the club… sorry, it just happened.


	2. Team Arrow: Here fishy fishy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Felicity decides the lair needs a pet and buys a goldfish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (prompt from disasterintow on tumblr)

"Fivel. No, Lester! Maybe Henry?”

Felicity gazed at the sweet yellow fish, calmly exploring his small tank. She’d already treated the water, the air filter was in place and she had three different kinds of fish food.

Now she just needed a name.

"Felicity?"

"No, it would be too confusing," she said, waving Diggle off before it hit her that he wasn’t a mind reader and was likely just talking  _to her_. “Uh, I mean, what can I do for you, John?”

He raised an eyebrow at… Maurice?

Not quite right.

"Oh, yes, this is our new pet. I’m still working on a name."

Digg made a funny choking sound that turned into a cough. “Have, uh, have you told Oliver you’re getting the basement a pet?”

She turned to shoot him an annoyed look. 

"I’m here almost as much as Oliver is, and Wilbur… no, Arnold? Well, anyway, this fish is going to be much better company than he is. So I don’t think he gets a say."

"Of course I get a say," Oliver pronounced, stepping lightly off the stairs. "What are we talking about?"

"Felicity has something to tell you," Digg said with an amused smile that she was relatively certain was not helpful.

Now that Oliver was  _here_  she was a little less sure that she didn’t need his approval. It had seemed innocent at the time, but maybe the tank would be a giveaway if they were ever searched again… poor Humphrey might be sacrificed for secrecy!

No, not Humphrey.

Oh, right, Oliver was standing there, looking at her expectantly.

"Well, as I’m sure you’re figured out through your excellent observational skills and John’s helpful commentary, we now have a fish."

"A fish?"

"A goldfish, yes."

"Why do we have a fish?"

"Because I wanted one."

"So take your fish home."

"I wanted one  _here_.”

Oliver stared at her for a minute, and then glanced down at Quincy (oh, definitely not) with a sigh.

"I’m not feeding it."

"Good, I don’t want you to. You’d probably kill him by putting too many bloodworms in at once."

He looked back  up at her, and she could see laughter in his eyes. 

"Probably. What’s his name?"

"I’m working on it."

"She’s stuck," Diggle offered helpfully from his seat.

Oliver crouched down and looked through the glass at the little golden fish. Felicity did the same thing on the other side. His face looked funny and distorted through the glass. 

"Merlin," he said, decisively. 

She stood up in shock, and watch as he slowly straightened. 

"You don’t mean like…"

"No, with an i," he said, but there was a shadow in his eyes that told her he might always think of the fish with a y in its name.

"Are you sure? I don’t want to… I didn’t mean to bring up, that is, as long as you’re sure."

Oliver reached over and brushed some hair out of her face before his hand settled gently on her shoulder.

"I’m sure. It’s nice. Don’t kill him," he said with a twisted smile. Then he was gone, off to train with Diggle and plan for the night. 

Felicity watched the fish explore its fake castle.  _Merlin._ She could live with that.


	3. Oliver/Felicity: Water wars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Olicity and water balloon fights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt from befitandchase on tumblr

Felicity knows this is a terrible idea. 

Sure, she tries to rationalize it away. They are at a charity event. Other people were doing it. He’s never going to hold that against her.

They are here to gather information, to bug the charity’s founder, who just happens to be married to one of the shadiest businessmen in Starling City. But Oliver doesn’t know her directly, and she’s been frustratingly busy with the games. 

His strategy, of course, will be to go wave a big check at her until she starts paying attention to him. 

Felicity wants to do things… differently. 

If the woman is in the clear, and the charity is legitimate, she’ll support Oliver making a donation. But until then, she’d rather get their hostess’s attention without funding possible criminal activities.

And when it comes down to it, volunteering Oliver for the water balloon fight is too amazing to pass up. 

So she does. She claims she’s his secretary and that he meant to send his name in weeks ago. They make her sign up as well, to fill a hole in the opposing team. But she doesn’t mind. This dress isn’t hers, and as pretty as it is, it’s just clothing. Worth it to see Oliver Queen in the middle of a kid’s game.

"Ok, can we have our brave volunteers for the great water balloon war to the garden, please? Everyone else, your safest viewing area will be on the terrace. Champagne is being served."

The announcement prompts a few people to move, but Felicity waits, and they list off the names. 

"Martin Ashmore, Yancy Fillpin, Vanessa Green, Felicity Smoak." 

Oliver’s head snaps to hers in confusion. She just grins and stands up.

"Tim Bates, Patsy Reynolds, Oliver Queen."

"Coming, Oliver? I see our hostess waving to us," she says sweetly. 

His eyes narrow, but he gets up and follows her without a word.

There’s some kerfluffle over their clothes when they get to the garden. Most of the others knew ahead of time that they’d be doing this and brought something to change into. Felicity is stuck in her ruffled blue cocktail dress, and Oliver’s designer suit is in serious danger. 

To his credit, he just hands off his jacket and shoes and glares at her. She’s barefoot, her heels being entirely useless on the grass anyway, and gives him a finger wave before heading to her side of the “field”.

It’s all very simple: the team with the most hits on the other team wins the day. The prize is something extravagent and unnecessary, and it doesn’t bother Felicity that she can’t hear it explained. 

She can feel Oliver sizing her up from the other side of the grassy area. He’s never actually seen her throw, so she’s got the element of surprise. 

She lands the first two she’s given, one exploding spectacularly on his head, and the other hitting him square on the shoulder. His white shirt is drenched, sticking distractingly to his chiseled torso.

Her team cheers while they duck and weave away from the incoming water bombs. He gets three very close to her, and it’s only her heightened sensitivity that keeps her dry. 

She hits a few other people, not wanting to look like she’s not interested in the game. Her hair’s fallen out of its updo, and the splashes from the near misses have her skirt damp and clinging to her legs. With her last two, she seeks him out again, only to find him missing from the crowd on the other side of the divider. 

"Looking for me?"

She whirls around and finds him about three feet behind her, empty-handed. In her single-minded search, she’s wandered into the neutral zone, where they can both stand without losing points. He’s still wet, and there’s a fierce look in his eyes that has her momentarily concerned. 

But this is a water balloon fight, so concern will have to wait. 

"Yep," she grins, and throws one of her balloons at point-blank range. 

He  _catches_  it, the bastard. Un-popped. 

Now they each have one. He takes a step closer, and she stubbornly holds her ground. 

"Felicity, now would be a good time to run," he warns. There’s a tightness to his voice that she doesn’t understand. 

"Lighten up, Oliver," she teases. "It’s just water."

They can hear the countdown beginning for the end of the game. 30 seconds…

He takes another step, and he’s right there, all the wet, male mass of him. He leans in, his face inches from hers, and for a moment she thinks he’s actually about to kiss her. 

Then he pries the other balloon from her momentarily loose grip and brings his two balloons together over her head in a shower of cold water. 

The grin on his face is triumphant. And a little infectious, she admits to herself.

He gives her his jacket as they head inside with their hostess chattering animatedly about how nice it is to see young people involved. And he keeps a hand on her back. 

Maybe it wasn’t such a terrible idea.


	4. Felicity/Oliver: Rubber bandit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Felicity and Oliver having a rubber band fight in the lair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt from disasterintow on tumblr

The first one was an accident. Honestly. She was trying to secure a bunch of cords that were haphazardly draped behind the desk when the rubber band snapped out of her hand.

It was a beautiful shot, though. 

The small piece of blue rubber flew 10 feet, over the weapons table, and hit Oliver square on the cheek. 

Felicity ducked out of sight, but she heard the noise of Oliver and Diggle’s training pause for a moment and then resume. 

He had no idea, obviously. She breathed a sigh of relief and stood to grab her rubber-band ball from the drawer to her left. 

She never heard it coming. 

He got her on her upper arm, and the sting of it had her spinning around angrily. 

They were already fighting, Oliver’s back to her in a totally nonchalant expression of innocence. 

She could work with that. 

It didn’t take long to set up a system of carefully tensed rubber bands at appropriate distances all connected with a string to trigger their launch. She just pretended to be shuffling papers, or organizing, or checked to be sure Oliver wasn’t watching. 

She felt a bit bad that Diggle would be caught in the crossfire. But not enough to call it off. 

When all was in place, she settled into her chair and watched behind her with her webcam, waiting until Oliver was back in the near corner of the practice mat. 

The launch was a thing of beauty. Only two misfires and 13 colored projectiles of doom all aimed at Oliver’s back. She hit record on her webcam. For posterity. 

It wasn’t until she saw him turn and glare at her that she realized her mistake. 

_She’d just armed him with return fire_.


	5. Felicity/Oliver: Lessons in Marvel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Olicity watches the new Thor trailer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt from macyaudenstar on tumblr

"Oh. My. God."

Oliver looked up from his weapons desk, narrowing his eyes at Felicity. She was half-hidden behind his training equipment, but she’d sounded… stunned. “What? Did you find him?”

No answer. 

He laid down the arrows he’d been checking and crossed the room in a few quick strides.

Ah. 

She had headphones on. Big ones, with cushy padding to block outside noise. And she was most definitely not reacting to reaching the end of the paper trail he’d asked her to follow, as her screen was full of capes, and men with very long hair, and… was that Idris Elba?

He placed his hands on either side of her head and removed the noise-cancelling monstrosities in one smooth motion. 

She  _squeaked_. “What? No!” Then she turned around to glare at him. _  
_

"Felicity." He was having to work very hard to keep a straight face, and he caught a glimpse of Natalie Portman floating in midair, looking terrified. "What are you doing?"

"Well, I  _was_ enjoying the magnificence of the new Thor trailer, until someone stole my sound.” The video had run its course and was stopped, with a giant play button offering another try right in the middle of the still. 

Oliver held the headphones out of her reach. “No luck with - “

"Honestly, Oliver," she snapped, crossing her arms to keep from reaching for the headphones, "do you think I don’t understand how this works? If I had something, you’d know."

He nodded and after a moment, handed her back the shiny red headset. “So, you said this was for… Thor?” He nodded at the computer, feeling the familiar sensation of total disconnect from popular culture.

She shot him a sharp look.

"Oh god, you’ve missed most of them, haven’t you?"

"Excuse me?"

"The Marvel movies. Sit. IMMEDIATELY."

She reached to the left to drag Diggle’s empty chair over, and then turned back to her computer and unplugged the headphones, turning up her speakers.

"So, this is the third movie we see most of these characters in…"

Oliver smiled. And sat. 


	6. Oliver: Superheroes and pants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Actual 5-year-old allergic-to-clothes Oliver

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt was partly my own problem and part egging on by absentlyabbie on tumblr

“Raisa, NO!”

He doesn’t want to. Surely Raisa can see that. Oliver Queen tries a look of stern command on his 5-year-old face, and flings his shirt and pants back at his constant companion.

It’s hot. Who wants to wear pants when it’s hot?

“Oliver Queen, do not make me bother your mother.”

Raisa threatens him with his mother when she wants to make him behave. She promises his father when she wants to reward him for being good.

His father! His father is always smiling, his father will understand.

It’s so hot.

Besides. He’s already in his favorite superman underpants.

Someone opens the door, Raisa turns to see who it is, and Oliver senses his escape. He takes off running, leaving Raisa yelling behind him, and Martha the upstairs maid squealing as he turns the corner and evades her half-hearted attempt to catch him.

His father is always in the first floor study this time of day, so he takes the stairs two at a time, hopping and laughing as he savors his freedom.

“Oliver, no!”

Raisa’s voice echoes through the foyer, but he’s already to the heavy study door. It opens smoothly, whispering over the ornate carpet.

“Daddy, can you tell Raisa please I don’t have to put on pants today?” He falls over his hasty words as he carefully shuts the door, knowing that Raisa will be close behind him.

There’s silence as he turns around. From all four men in the room.

His father is in a meeting. He recognizes Tommy’s father, and a few others who sometimes come over for dinner.

For a moment he freezes, afraid that he has truly crossed a line.

And then they all start to laugh. Oliver relaxes and a carefully innocent smile finds his face.

“It’s just so hot.”

The door opens again and a red-faced Raisa comes in, followed by his mother, whose face is more white with anger.

“Robert, do NOT encourage this,” she starts, but his father waves her off.

“Moira, give the boy his day as Superman,” he chuckles. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, son? Don’t you have a planet to save?”


	7. Felicity: Nuts to you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Felicity has an allergic reaction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt by befitandchase on tumblr

She should have known better.

If she wasn’t in this ridiculously expensive dress, drinking ridiculously expensive wine while Diggle stands next to her in his dress uniform and Oliver prowls the A-list crowd relying on her technology to figure out which of his mother’s old friends have come in with a bomb strapped to their chest… well, then she would have remembered to check what she was stuffing into her mouth.

She knows the moment she bites into it. Her mouth starts to itch, and the hair on the back of her neck stands up. She grabs Diggle’s napkin out of his hand and spits the mashed up petit-four into it, but it’s too late.

"Oh, shit."

Diggle recovers fast from his confusion about the napkin theft, and must see the panic on her face.

"Felicity?"

"What’s wrong?" Oliver’s voice cuts over the end of her name and she looks up to find his blue eyes focused on her face. Her face which she can feel swelling, by the way.

Right, they have comms in. 

"Nuts. Need epipen."

"Digg." Oliver’s command is unnecessary, as Diggle is already leading her out of the room, quickly and quietly. But when he reaches for her dangling clutch she shakes her head. 

She’s stopped carrying the epipen around with her obsessively. She hasn’t had an episode since college. And on a mission there are more important things like cell phones and bomb diffusing equipment to smash into her cute gold bag. 

"Dammit," Digg stands and looks around the coat room. "Oliver, she doesn’t have it. I’ll start checking coats, but she’s going to need a hospital if we can’t find one."

The wheezing has started. She lies flat on her back and closes her eyes. Despite her best efforts to stay calm, she can feel her throat closing up. Digg squats next to her and his big hand on her forehead is comforting.

"Come on, genius, any other ideas?"

They can’t leave the party. It will blow up if they’re not there to stop the attack. 150 of Starling City’s elite philanthropists wiped off the map in one devastating explosion. Her head is spinning as her oxygen levels drop with the restricted airflow in her trachea.

She pats his hand comfortingly, but has nothing to add.

"Ladies and Gentlemen!" Oliver’s voice rings out across the comms. "If I could have your attention for just a moment. The staff has told me that there is a medical emergency, and anyone who is carrying an epipen is asked to bring it to the coat room immediately. Again, one of our guests seems to be having an allergic reaction."

He sounds concerned, but in the caring way of an uninterested third party with no connection to the event. But they both know him well enough to hear the edge to his words, the panic in his voice.

"Oliver, two minutes and then I have to get her help." Diggle stands and goes to the door of the coat room, looking across the ballroom.

"Anyone? Do we have any heroes in the crowd today? Come on, I’ll personally make sure it’s replaced," Oliver says, and Felicity can hear through the fog of panic how he’s working the crowd, being charming and flirtatious. 

Then she can’t breathe, and she feels the tears come as she slips into the black of unconsciousness.

The next thing she’s aware of is a woman’s voice.

"Felicity, try to breathe. Felicity!"

She forces her eyes open and tentatively tries to breathe. She’s able to get some air in, and the relief makes her tear up again. 

"Good work, there you go." The unfamiliar woman takes her pulse, and then turns to Diggle who is standing just behind her. "She’ll need to go to the hospital still, but she should be able to breathe now."

While the nicely dressed doctor gives Diggle instructions for his “date,” Felicity catches sight of Oliver lurking in the doorway. His fists are clenched, belying the blank look on his face. She tries a confident smile and winds up coughing, which just earns her a withering Queen glare.

He’s all smiles for the doctor when she turns around, though, and promises to donate to her charity just as soon as his bank opens. Then it’s just the three of them. Felicity’s on the floor, her pretty dress a wrinkled mess from the drama of a doctor stabbing her in the thigh with a large needle. Diggle and Oliver eye each other. 

"Ok, I am never eating anything with icing again," she whispers to break the tension. It doesn’t work. In the end she persuades them to let her help find the bomb first, although she’s not sure the two men have ever worked quite so fast. The bomb is found, cleared and the perpetrator arrested inside 10 minutes. 

Then Diggle is getting the car, Oliver is sweeping her into his arms, and she’s on the way to the private wing of the Starling City Hospital. 

Stupid nuts. She was hoping to watch Suits live tonight. 


	8. Felicity/Oliver: The space between

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Dark!Felicity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt from thenightsign on tumblr
> 
> (scene based on a tumblr photoset here: http://dactylgirl.tumblr.com/post/59760343014/how-cute-you-were-trying-to-escape-again)

"How cute, you were trying to escape. Again."

Oliver closes his eyes as her voice rings out through the basement dungeon, wishing he could do something more to block out the sound of her.

How has it come to this?

"Felicity…"

"Don’t be stupid, Oliver. I know you far too well to design a prison too weak to hold you."

She stands in front of him, and he forces himself to meet her gaze. She is the same, her glasses, her blonde ponytail, but her wardrobe has darkened over the last year. 

And her eyes are unforgiving.

She presses a button on her tablet, and his chains jerk taut again.

"There, that should keep you occupied for a while." She turns for the door, uninterested.

"It doesn’t have to be like this," he calls after her. "Let me make it right."

"Oh, Oliver," her smile when she turns back is chilling. Especially compared to the smiles she used to offer him. "You had your chance."

"This isn’t you," he pushes, straining at the bonds that hold him. "Diggle would never have wanted —"

"No!" She jabs at another spot on her tablet and electricity courses through him, silencing his plea. "You don’t get to say his name, remember? You lost that right when you left him to die. Left me to listen helplessly."

He’s gasping for air, struggling to keep her talking. She hasn’t said this much to him in the entire week he’s been down here. Of course it comes back to John.

"I’m sorry," he whispers. "You have to know that I’m sorry."

"Your apologies mean nothing, and your tactics are scattershot at best and ineffective at worst. You’re unreliable and selfish." She takes a step closer, into his personal space. He can feel her breath on his chest and remembers a time not so long ago when she would have blushed to see him shirtless.

Now when she runs a hand down his side, he’s the one flushing. 

"Let me fix this," he says. "No one else has to die."

For a moment, her eyes soften. A split second where the expression in them is heartrendingly recognizable.

And then she steps back and turns away. A dark avenging angel that he doesn’t know anymore. 

"You’re so very, very wrong, Mr. Queen." 

A flat screen flicks on above the door as she approaches. It’s on the Starling City 24 hour news channel.

"Felicity!"

"Enjoy the show, Oliver."

She doesn’t look back. 


	9. Tommy/Felicity: Speak my language

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Tommy and Felicity meeting for the first time, and Tommy actually understanding her geek speak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt from an anonymous tumblr user.
> 
> I am not a programmer, I am making things up with the words I know and vague sense of how complicated it all is. Forgive me/correct me.

It’s late. 

 _Really_ late. 

Diggle left hours ago, and she’d promised him she was minutes behind him.

But she’s still here.

Felicity stretches, glaring at the page of code in front of her. Somewhere in the mess of commands is the reason their latest ne’er-do-well keeps slipping through her virtual net. She’s missing something.

But she’s been through it 30 times in the last three hours, and she needs to step away. Go home. Sleep. Shower. 

She’s just afraid more innocent people will die while her brain works it out.

The thrumming bass of the club above her suddenly quiets and she jumps in alarm. If she’s missed the crowds leaving for the night, her exit will be even more noticeable.

So she downloads the code onto her tablet and dashes up the stairs, turning lights off as she slips out of the door. 

It’s completely empty. The silence of the club amplifies the sound of the basement door clicking shut, and it echoes like a shot down the hallway. Thank god she’s the only one left-

"Who the hell are you?"

Oh shit. “Mr. Merlyn, hi. Uh, Felicity Smoak. I work for Oliver. Oliver Queen?”

It comes out like a question and she rolls her eyes at herself. That’ll reassure the nice man at 4 am. 

"Doing what, exactly." Tommy’s got his arms crossed and a dubious look on his face. "And why in the hell would you still be here?"

"Well, uh, time got away from me tonight," she says. Her hands inch toward her phone, the urge to call Oliver overwhelming. "I’m in IT at Queen Consolidated, but Oliver has me working on the tech for the club sometimes."

"He never told me anything about it."

"Well I’m sure he just didn’t want to bother-"

"Our servers aren’t in the basement."

"Huh?" Shit. Shit. SHIT.

"I know where all of the computer power that runs Verdant is kept, and none of it is in the basement. At all."

"Well, he wanted to explore relocating-"

"Bullshit." There’s a strained pause. "You’re… helping him, aren’t you?"

"I don’t know what you’re-"

"I can’t believe he hired an IT girl before telling his best friend."

"I really think you’ve got it all-"

"I know he thinks I don’t have the codes." 

This brings her up short. He has the codes to the basement? "Do you?"

"Since last month."

Ah. “So you know…”

"Everything."

"I doubt that."

"I know Oliver Queen puts on a green leather costume and goes out at night with a bow and arrow to hunt down white collar criminals and reduce the population of bodyguards in Starling City."

"Oh."

"And I don’t know how I feel about it."

But he hadn’t turned them in, apparently. Not yet, anyway. Felicity tilts her head in confusion.

"Why doesn’t he know you know?"

"I’m waiting for him to tell me," he says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

"Huh." She’s not sure what to say to that. Oliver is big on protecting those closest to him from the truth, whatever that means. "Do you know anything more useful? Like, say, how to run an effective query on a masked roaming signal from a burner phone with no GPS?"

He stares at her for a minute. “You want my help debugging  code?”

She flushes red and shakes her head. What an absurd idea. Why would Tommy Merlyn know anything about-

"Have you tried adjusting the relationship of the ping and the transmitting order?" He’s actually pulling out a tablet of his own and… is that a dos window?

_Who is this man?_

She never makes it home that night. Between the two of them, they find the bug in an hour, and he grabs a bottle of wine to celebrate. 

She phones the location in to Oliver and asks him when his best friend became a programming geek. 

It’s just audio, but she’s pretty sure he almost swallows an arrow. 

She’ll ask Diggle for a re-enactment tomorrow. 


	10. Oliver/Felicity: Watch your tone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Oliver barks orders at Felicity one too many times and she snaps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt from thecoolcheryl on tumblr

"What the hell did you think you were doing?"

"Ok, first of all, I don’t appreciate the tone, Oliver."

“ _Felicity!_ ”

Felicity shivers in the cold night air as they stand several buildings away from where their last mission has just gone to shit in a spectacular fashion.

"Someone had to rewire the security system! It was about to summon half of Starling City-"

"You were supposed to stay in the van. If you can’t follow orders, then you can’t come on missions."

"Bullshit. When was the last time Diggle followed your orders?"

"You. Are. Not. Diggle." His voice is cold and she turns away for a moment, absorbing the emotional blow. 

The comms crackle. “In case you two were wondering, I’m fine.”

Felicity’s knees wobble, gone weak with relief at hearing Digg’s voice.

"I never doubted it," Oliver growls. "Do you still have eyes on the target?"

"Yeah, Lexington and Yancey Street. Heading east."

"I’ll be there in five minutes."

Felicity’s head pops up. “We’ll be there.”

"No, Felicity. You’re done. Go back to Verdant. Or go home." Oliver’s commands are clipped and careless, except for the weight behind them. 

"Oliver, just let me-"

"Enough! You’ve done enough tonight," he snaps. He starts for the door to the stairwell.

Diggle sighs over the comms, and Felicity sees red. 

"NO!" She’s after him in a flurry, moving faster than she realized she could. Standing between him and the door, she reaches up and shoves his green hood back so she can look into his face. 

"No. You do not get to send me home like a naughty child. You do NOT get to tell me that Diggle is a more valuable member of this team."

He’s silent, unmoving. But she meets his eyes in a fury.

"We are a team. You, Diggle, and me, dammit. If I don’t know how to work in the field to your satisfaction, you damn well better teach me, because I have tried to teach you two basic computing and let me tell you it will be easier to teach me to fight."

He huffs in frustration. She thinks she hears Diggle hide a snort of laughter, but can’t be sure over the comm connection.

"You think you need to protect me? I know 12 different ways to bring down the Starling City police department from the inside, and 8 of those are untraceable. I can do 4 of them from my phone. And  _maybe_ , if you hadn’t gotten into a fight with every security guard within three floors, we could have stuck to the plan and slipped in and out.”

She’s moved closer as she talks, her hands now waving just inches from his leatherbound chest. 

"But they almost triggered the main alarm. And someone had to deal with it. So don’t you put this on me, and don’t you send me the fuck home."

She takes a deep breath. His face is unreadable.

"You’re not better than me, Oliver Queen. Now I’m going to help Diggle. You may come if you wish."

Felicity turns to open the stairwell door, but Oliver’s hand is on her arm, holding her in place. 

"Give us a minute, Digg?" he says, removing first his own earpiece and then hers. Then he gently spins her back to face him.

"I know."

"You know what?" She’s exasperated, emotionally spent. 

"That I’m not better than you, of course I know that." His hand is still on her arm. She just waits. He smiles that off-kilter smile that always makes her insides gooey.

Dammit.

"The situation may have already been out of control," he says, "before you went for the alarm."

"Oh?"

"It was. You’re right. I wasn’t able to move as quickly as I expected, and there were more guards, and then you just… ran right out into the middle of it." His face tightens as he explains himself, the smile slipping into a more serious expression. "You scared me."

"Well you just… wait, what?"

 _Scared_  him?

"I know you’re a terror with the tech, and I know we need you." He hesitates, and then smiles again. Her smile. "I need you just to remember the door code, half the time."

"Idiot." Her anger is falling away, and they’re standing awfully close.

"But every time you come out into the field, I worry. I know you chose this, and you want to be here, but,  _god_ , Felicity.”

And then his arms are around her and she’s being bear-hugged by the Hood himself. And it’s lovely. He rests his chin on her hair and his chest rumbles as he continues.

"Diggle’s a soldier. A brother in arms. He’s faced death, he knows the risks. I can’t… We can’t lose you. So I’m not ordering, I’m asking, please be more careful."

She breathes in the leather’s scent mixed with Oliver’s fragrance, and sighs. 

"So teach me, then. I know you’ve fought women. Look at Helena. Teach me how to keep you from worrying."

He mirrors her sigh, and then loosens his arms, letting her step back. 

"I’m not sure I can stop. But lessons start tomorrow."

She smiles, then. And punches his arm with a glare, just in case he thinks she’s forgiven him completely. Then she slides the comm back into her ear.

"Digg?"

"There she is. Oliver apologize?"

"Profusely." And he had, really. 

"Good. I’ve got him cornered in an abandoned warehouse. I could really use some backup."

She glances at Oliver, who has slipped his own comm back in.

He nods to her. "On our way."


	11. Diggle/Felicity: Something there

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: AU fic Diggle/Felicity (no Carly)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt from caskettdensi on tumblr
> 
> This came out of a long discussion of WHY we don't ship the hell out of Diggle/everything but especially Diggle/Felicity. Age? Race? Sibling-like relationship? Writers really don't want us to? Carly? 
> 
> So this is an AU where Carly isn’t a love interest for Diggle, and Oliver isn't really interested in Felicity. Deep breath. You'll be ok.

At first it’s friendly. She’s so awkward with Oliver that he can’t help but laugh, and the laughter helps them get off on an easier footing. 

And they’re together all the time. 

When Oliver’s on a mission. When he’s in the club. When he’s at family events that don’t require a bodyguard. 

John and Felicity, Felicity and John. They become a team, seamless, able to anticipate what the other needs. 

They have inside jokes (he only has to say “bagels” and raise an eyebrow to make her fall into fits of laughter) and ongoing conversations about books (he’s never read Harry Potter) and movies (she is considering trying out the Die Hard series). 

Then she’s got a bomb strapped around her neck and for the first time in years, John panics. He doesn’t show it, he’s well trained enough for that, but inside he’s a mess of impotent rage. Dodger has selected her almost carelessly, out of annoyance and vindictiveness. 

Oliver speeds off on his motorcycle to save the day, and all John can do is hold her hand while they wait. 

When it unclasps, he remembers how to breathe. 

She’s quiet the next few days, and so is he. 

He knows she still flusters around Oliver, and he cringes when Oliver tries to use that to get what he wants from her. She’s too smart to fall for that tactic, always has been. She’d only started working with them because she’d known, right from the beginning, that something very strange was going on. 

It still makes him smile to see Oliver put in his place. 

There are more missions, their banter returns, and he brings in his copies of Die Hard to watch while they compile data. 

He tells himself she’s not interested, and that it’s for the best. After all, she’s a decade younger than him. 

But then she asks him to train her. Not Oliver, him. And they add something new to their partnership. She makes him laugh with her spunk and terrible balance. He’s always gentle, because he doesn’t want her to ever feel she has to fear him. Oliver can be scary enough on his own.

She gets better, more aggressive, and one day she surprises him with a leg sweep. He finds himself on his back with her straddling his waist. She’s so gleeful, he doesn’t have the heart to flip her like he could. So he lets her celebrate and ignores Oliver’s raised eyebrow from across the room. 

Their conversations get deeper. They talk about Starling City, about Oliver’s mission, about their part in it. She gets less awkward around Oliver and he thinks it’s finally safe to tease her about it.

It is. 

"He’s just, this big dumb brother that I never had," she says over wine that he brings down from the bar one night. "I don’t know what I was thinking. It’s like I know him too well now."

"The Oliver Queen mystique wearing thin?" he asks with a smile.

"Or something." She takes a swig from the bottle and hands it back to him. "I mean, he’s still hot. You both are. This is really one hell of a job."

Then she blushes. His heart rate stays elevated for the rest of the night. 

Oliver notices, eventually. He doesn’t say much, just “be careful” and “she knows 17 ways to destroy your life electronically.”

John glares at him, but a weight is lifted by the acknowledgement. 

When they find her, tied up on the floor of her office, Oliver is furious. Murderous. John is terrified. He hangs back as Oliver questions her, gets the information, leaves in a rage. But when it’s just the two of them, he opens his arms. She walks into them and tucks her head into his shoulder like it belongs there.

There’s a shift after that night. They touch more, accidental brushes that he would have avoided before. She’s more aggressive in practice, they wind up pinned under each other with greater frequency. She blushes.

He doesn’t mind at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm calling it Smiggle.


	12. Oliver/Felicity: Eugene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: pregnant felicity!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt from samanthapetrelli on tumblr

She doesn’t have any of the morning sickness. Nothing dramatic or pathetic to clue her in.

She’s just late. Later than she’s ever been.

It sends her, panicking, back to her planner. Because surely it’s not - there’s no way, they’d used protection. She was on the pill. 

But there it is, in her crisp blue pen. “Eugene, 8 pm.” A good week after her last period ended.

She raids the drugstore, trying to hide the tests in between bags of candy she doesn’t want and magazines she’ll never read.

In that movie, Juno, the girl had chugged a gallon of juice so she’d need to pee, so she buys herself some beverages, too.

The clerk gives her a happy smile, and is about to say something when Felicity shoves money and him and scrambles out of the store. 

It’s an hour before she has to pee. An hour she spends pacing up and down the length of her hallway, drinking gatorade and apple juice. 

She does all four tests. Lines them up neatly on the bathroom counter and waits. 

Double lines. Pluses. Smiley faces and one that just straight up tells you in words: pregnant.

She calls in sick to work, and avoids Oliver and Diggle for three days.

The morning of the fourth, she wakes up to the smell of coffee on her bedside table and the sight of Oliver leaning against her wall.

"Oh, fuck."

He waits, lets her drink the coffee and shuffle to her closet for actual clothing. He relocates to the couch, and when she comes out, he’s leafing through the planner. 

"Eugene?"

"Shut up."

They sit for a minute in silence, and then he reaches out and tucks some hair behind her ear.

"Diggle’s worried about you."

"I’m fine."

"I’m worried about you."

"Oliver, I’m fine."

"You’re not sick, though."

"No." There’s no point in lying. She feel great, physically. Fantastic. It’s her emotional well-being that’s in jeopardy. 

"So talk to me."

She still hesitates, and he rolls his eyes, reaching out to gather her onto his lap. It feels good, the first human contact she’s had since she found out.

"Felicity?"

"Eugene."

"What about him?"

His voice is gentle, and she wonders if he hasn’t poked around her trash and figured it out for himself already. 

"Well, you know I codename our… uh…"

"Private time?"

"Yeah."

"I know. I didn’t know I was a character from a 1900s Oscar Wilde play."

She smiles. She’s been making him read things.

"I like Eugene. He’s a nice man with a middle management job and a taste for baseball."

He growls a little and nuzzles into her hair. “Oh, is he?”

She quiets, just letting him hold her. “Oliver?”

"I only answer to Eugene."

"Hush. I’m trying to tell you something."

He hushes. 

But the words won’t come out. “I’m scared. I don’t know what to do.”

His arms tighten, and she’s sure he knows. 

"We’ll figure it out."

"We will? Even if I’m not… I’m not ready?"

"Even then. Together."

She ducks her head down onto his chest then, letting his warmth relax her.

"But no matter what," he says, "I am not naming it Eugene."


	13. Oliver/Felicity: What's an Olicity?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: response of Oliver and Felicity when they find out they have a ship name!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt by thenightsign on tumblr

"Oh you have got to be kidding me."

Oliver pauses mid-swing, ducking a punch from Diggle and turning toward the third member of the team, who is currently glaring at her precious computer.

"Felicity?"

She jumps, he is amused to see, when he calls her name. And then blushes. Well at least it’s not likely to be a life-or-death issue. 

He cuts a look back to Digg, who shrugs. Ok, then.

"Did I say that out loud?" She’s chattering loudly now, searching under her desk for a dropped… something. He’s behind her in two easy strides, and a quick glance at the screen tells him what he needs to know.

It’s a news story about him. But somehow, they’ve gotten ahold of a picture from the last mission he took Felicity out on, the one where she wore a strapless blue number that had made concentration very difficult. 

He’s concentrating on her in this picture.

He steps to the side to let her back out from under the desk, pen triumphantly in hand. 

"So it’s a picture of us," he says. "What’s the problem?"

She rolls her eyes and gestures vaguely to… all of the screen. Helpful.

Still, he looks more closely. Headline:  _Is Oliver Queen back to his playboy ways?_  That’s nothing new. They ask that every two or three weeks. First paragraph:  _It looks like Oliver Queen is fishing a little closer to home for his latest paramour._

Ew, he’s always hated that word.

 _The heir to the multi-billion dollar Queen Consolidated fortune, recently resurrected from the dead after five years_ … blah blah… oh, this must be it.  _Now he’s been seen out and about with none other than his company’s top IT pro. Felicity Smoak, our sources tell us, is a bombshell with a wild side, whose co-workers didn’t seem at all surprised when asked about the couple._

_"Felicity? Sure Mr. Queen comes to see her all the time."_

He makes a mental note of the quoted employees’ names. Talking about the boss’ personal life to the press is a definite strike against them. 

"Ok, that’s unfortunate, but we can roll with it," he says calmly. 

"Roll with - Oliver, they’ve given us a Brangelina name!" Felicity can’t seem to hold in her emotions and bounds out of her chair, pacing behind him as he looks to the screen one more time.

"I didn’t see…"

"Under the photo."

Ah.  _Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak, or as we call them: Olicity, pictured leaving the Rothschild soiree together._

"Olicity?" He rolls it around on his tongue, smiles. It’s not actually that bad. "You should have heard what they called me and this girl Debbie in high school.  _Dollie._ It was awful.” Tommy had loved that one. 

Diggle laughs and heads for the showers, content that there’s no actual crisis. Felicity continues pacing. 

"What’s really bothering you?"

"Really? Aside from my co-workers ratting me out to some no-good tabloid for a one-sentence mention that doesn’t even spell their names right? Or the fact that I now get to explain to my parents why they’re getting hate mail from sorority girls? Oh god, what am I going to tell my parents?"

She pauses, distraught. He laughs and catches her hand, spinning her into his arms. 

"You could tell them the truth?"

She rests her forehead on his chest and groans. “What truth? The Hood truth? Or the occasionally making out with Starling City’s favorite billionaire truth?”

He reaches down and tips her head up so he can look her in the eyes. There’s frustration on her face, but also laughter. 

"Whatever you - wait. Occasionally making out? Felicity Smoak, am I just another booty call to you?"

She pushes up on her tiptoes and wraps one arm around his neck, coming in for a quick kiss. It’s familiar and exciting at the same time, and it’s no wonder, really, that his concentration had drifted in that damn picture.

"Oh, absolutely," she grins against his mouth. "And I’ve got Carlos coming tonight at 7 so can we hurry this up?"

He growls and lifts her with one arm, marching for the couch. Time to remind Ms. Smoak that he doesn’t share.


	14. Team Arrow: Beach party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: stripper felicity! team arrow on a beach! drunk oliver! any of those.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt was from winki on tumblr. 
> 
> She said any of them... I did all of them.

John Diggle isn’t sure he can pinpoint just when the mission got this out of hand. 

All he knows is that he’s half naked on a beach covered in stand-alone stripper poles. His partners are… somewhere nearby, doing things he does NOT want to know about. Really. 

Oh god, he has to go find them. 

The party is being hosted by a drug cartel, celebrating a new transportation line into Starling City. Oliver had been ready to play the drunk billionaire card to get them in, but Felicity had wanted to take it one step further.

"If I’m working the party, I can move more freely," she’d said. "We’ll have multiple angles."

"Felicity," Oliver had said seriously. "You’ll have to be a stripper."

And here they are. He spots them, finally, at a pole midway down the beach. Remember to play his part, he lurches “drunkenly” to where Felicity is twirling around a pole in an impressive bikini. 

"Oliver," he says. "Any luck?"

"Diggle!" His employer turns with a shit eating grin. "It’s Diggle! I like you, Diggle. You’re the best."

And then he throws an arm around John’s shoulders and leans his head on his shoulder. John looks to Felicity in shock.

"He’s drunk off his ass," she says with sigh. "And I’m not getting anywhere, because he chases away anyone who comes up to me."

"S’not ok," Oliver grumbles from his spot snuggled up on John’s shoulder. "Shouldn’t be bothering Felicity."

John tries not to laugh, honestly, but he just can’t help himself. Felicity glares at him, but quickly remembers her role and gets back to dancing. 

"Brilliant irony and unresolved sexual tension aside," John says, "this is a problem." He digs his toes into the sand to anchor himself as Oliver sways against him. "How did he get this drunk?"

"No idea, he was like that when he came over. Although, I did see him talking to…" she scans the crowd and then points one pink-toenailed foot in the direction she wants him to look. "The tall guy, red shirt."

"He was nice," Oliver coos.

"So we thing drugged?" John sighs. Thank god they brought some of those island herbs Oliver’s always using.

"How else could this happen?"

The man in question is coming their way, so John hurries to finish the conversation.

"Listen, be careful. Don’t drink anything he gives you. Give me five minutes to sober him up, ok?"

"You got it, Digg," she says resolutely, pasting on a smile and shimmying invitingly to the leering criminal. 

John keeps her in sight, dragging a complaining Oliver to the ocean and forcing his head underwater a few times. When he comes up fighting, he knows he’ll be useful again.

"Why don’t I remember anything since I was standing at the bar?" Oliver asks, sputtering.

"I’ll explain later, Felicity needs a save," John mutters. And she does, red shirt is getting grabby and waving his flask around. She can only accidentally kick the guy so many times. 

The words are barely out of his mouth when Oliver is gone. John knows what comes next. They’ve got the suit behind a palm tree just around the next bend in the beach. He makes his way back to Felicity and stumbles purposefully into their target.

"Watch it, man! The lady and I are busy."

"We’re really not," she says.

"Listen, bitch, I run the whole damn operation, I think you have time to give me a private show!"

"Ray Fortuna, you have failed this city."

A hush falls over the party, and John knows that’s his cue. “Ok, time to go,” he says, grabbing Felicity by the hand as the self-confessed kingpin turns to find the Hood with an arrow to his neck.

Oliver does his thing, taking down three armed guards before tying the leader to a palm tree, 15 feet in the air. Arrows in his shirt and pants make sure he’ll stay there. A call to the authorities means he’ll be dealt with.

And if Oliver and Felicity can’t quite look at each other in the backseat as John drives them home? 

That’s just a bonus, he thinks with a smile. 


	15. Diggle/Felicity: Something more

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: SMIGGLE. Give me all the smiggle. You have created a monster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt/begging by ohemgeeitscoley on tumblr.
> 
> REMINDER — this is an AU with Carly NOT a love interest for Diggle, and Oliver not really one for Felicity. Very NON CANON. Shhhh, I’m exploring.
> 
> Continuation from Chapter 11, "Something there"

He’s very aware of the age difference between them, not because she acts young but because she doesn’t. There’s none of the exhaustion of dealing with the unbridled energy and excessive optimism of youth.

She channels those into her determination, stubborness and brilliance, he supposes. And she smiles at him, and he lets himself wonder.

It’s Roy that brings it up, eventually. He’s a punk teenager dating Oliver’s sister whose search for the Hood gets her in one too many tight spots. Oliver takes him in to try and cut down on the number of times a month Thea finds herself in mortal peril.

Roy and Oliver are training with wooden staves while Felicity and Diggle spar. 

She accepts John’s hand after a hard takedown, but dives for his middle while she’s still rising, crowing as he hits the mats. 

"That is, I think, a point for me," she grins. She’s slow to climb off of him, and as usual, he’s in no hurry to make her. 

"Digg, either get up or buy the girl some flowers," Oliver says. It’s a weak joke, but his tacit approval means a lot to John. 

Roy’s the new kid, playing catch-up, and his eyes widen as Felicity blushes and hops to her feet. 

"What? But you’re so  _old_ , man.” It halts John’s progress, freezing him on the mat. Roy doesn’t notice. “She’s closer to my age than yours— oof.”

The teenager’s sentence is cut short by Oliver attacking and they dive back into training. But John’s heart isn’t in it. 

Isn’t this what he’s told himself? Hell, she’s only been legal drinking age for three years. 

She takes him down twice more, but he doesn’t laugh along with her. When they finish, he hits the showers and broods (he’ll admit it) in the bathroom. Oliver just shakes his head, towels off, and says good night. John delays long enough that he expects her to have headed home. 

He’s not disappointed to be wrong.

She’s leafing through an equipment manual, sitting on the edge of the desk, her short legs swinging freely. She’s still in her workout gear, hair pulled back. 

"I, uh," he swallows. "You’re still here?"

"What were you doing, removing all your body hair? Because that would weird me out a bit, for the record." She sets the manual to the side, but stays seated. Her smile has an uncertain edge to it. 

"Felicity, you didn’t have to wait…" He’s not sure what to say next. 

"You do realize Roy’s six years younger than me, right?" Her lips are pursed in that disapproving way she usually reserves for blue screens or Oliver Queen. 

"Yes, I know how old Harper is," he says. "But that doesn’t mean he’s-"

"John Diggle, I’m a fully grown woman and a high-functioning adult, if I may say so myself." She hops off the table and crosses her arms. "And no 18 year old gets to give me advice on anything."

He’s silent, unwilling to concede. 

"The difference between 16 and 18 and 20 is huge," she sighs. "And I have very little in common with the 22 year olds just graduating college. But then I graduated at 20, remember. And… and fuck this, it doesn’t matter, John."

"Felicity, you deserve-" he starts, but pulls himself back. He can hear what’s wrong with the sentence before it’s fully formed. So can she.

"I deserve to make my own decisions. I deserve to be trusted with my life," she pauses and looks down. "And my heart."

He doesn’t have an answer for that, and just stares at her, overwhelmed, as she walks over and places a hand on his own pounding heart. 

She’s up on her toes to kiss his cheek and then across the room gathering up her bag before he has fully processed the situation.

"Felicity." His voice is rough with emotion he’s used to suppressing. Soldiers don’t have much cause to talk these things through. And he doesn’t want to rush into something. Their friendship is too important to him to risk on a whim. She’s too important.

"So that’s settled then? Because I think you owe me two bagels tomorrow." She grins at him and with only the slightest hesitation revealing her own nerves, holds out her hand. "Walk me to my car?"

He smiles in relief. So they’ll figure this out together, Smoak and Diggle, just like they always do.

Lacing his hand with hers gives him the same rush as stepping off the plane from Afghanistan. She feels like home.

But that can wait. 


	16. Oliver/Felicity: Piggyback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Fanart of Oliver giving Felicity a piggyback ride as the Hood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can see the fanart by humansrsuperior on tumblr here: http://notababoonbrandishingastick.tumblr.com/post/60731554824/humansrsuperior-i-dont-even-know-you-guys-i

"I just want to reiterate that you  _said_  we were doing this tomorrow.”

Felicity Smoak is not pleased with the turn in her evening. She’s several drinks in, wearing a killer red dress that she saved for months to be able to afford. Her fellow Queen Consolidated employees have been quite complimentary tonight. 

That red dress is not much insulation against the whipping wind that can be found on the balcony of the 57th floor ballroom, however. The alcohol is much more helpful there. She still has to cup the phone around her mouth to be heard.

"No,  _obviously_  I didn’t know the timeline had shifted.”

She’s pacing, her heels clacking on the flagstones as the muted sounds of a 90s boyband song drifts out the sliding doors to her.

"Yes, well, I’m already there. Surprised you weren’t planning to make an appearance, actually. Your mother’s supposed to drop in."

The doors slide open and she tenses, glancing over her shoulder to see George from accounting attempting to light a cigarette in the unrelenting wind. 

"Look, I’ve got to go. I’ll meet you downstairs."

George gives up, glaring out into the Starling City night. 

"What’re you doing out here, Smoak? It’s freezing."

"Just had to take a call," she says. "Server’s offline. What are you gonna do?"

It takes her seven minutes to convince her more inebriated colleagues that she can handle the “emergency” on her own. Another four to collect her coat and bag from the coat check. She can feel her phone buzzing in her pocket, but has no answer for the impatience. She’s in a crowd of people waiting for an elevator when she scrolls through the messages.

_ETA?_

_Felicity, we have to move._

_We’re going to scout out the location._

_Just come to room 5712._

The elevator dings open, and the front of the group surges inside. Felicity asks loudly where the restroom is to cover her wandering off. 

As soon as she’s out of sight, she slips off her noisy shoes. Padding through the dark halls, she finds herself on the other side of the 57th floor. 

Room 5712 is unlocked, so she slips inside. Her eyes need a moment to adjust to the dim light, so she’s not quite prepared for Oliver in full Hood regalia to detach himself silently from the shadows.

She squeaks. She’s not proud of it.

Then she throws a shoe at him. She did have three cocktails. He catches it, of course.

"I was in line for the elevator! How is this any faster at all?"

He slides his hood back for a moment and grins at her. 

"Sorry to interrupt, but we need you." He glances at the doors to the much smaller balcony off of this conference room. "And you’re not going to like my answer."

She doesn’t. 

They stuff her shoes into her purse, which looks ridiculous zipped into Oliver’s jacket. But not as ridiculous as her face, she imagines, as they zipline across nothingness to the next skyscraper, his arm around her waist and hers around his neck.

It takes her a solid minute to believe him when he says she can open her eyes now. She instinctively tries to let go and slide down to the ground, but he doesn’t release her.

Her surroundings sink in after a moment. It’s a construction site, and not a very neat one. There are materials scattered as if they’ve just missed a fight, nails and splintered wood everywhere.

"Oliver, give me my shoes and put me down." She looks more closely at his watchful face and the several small scrapes visible in the flickering light. "And why does it look like you are the cause of this mess? How many guards were there?"

"Seven," he says. "And I’m not making you navigate this in heels."

"Well you’re not carrying me across any thresholds today, so just get over it. I’m decent in heels."

"It’s dark and you’ve been drinking," he says. "Piggyback."

The word sounds so incongruous in his stern voice that she giggles. She’s still laughing when he all but tosses her over his shoulder. She scrambles to grab ahold, sliding naturally into position and trying to ignore how nice his hands feel under her knees or how high her pretty red dress is riding up.

"So where do we find it?" he asks once she’s settled.

"Uh, I need my tablet, Oliver."

A few more awkward adjustments and then she’s propping it on his hooded head, trying to match the blueprints with the half-constructed and partially destroyed reality facing them. 

"It should be up there and to the left," she decides finally.

He starts picking through the rubble, and she giggles again. “This SO beats that elevator ride… well, except for the ziplining. That was about the same. Did I just say that out loud? Wait, go RIGHT! It’s across that room, on the right!” She gets a little bit excited and leans in, gesturing with her arms as his hood slides ever further over his face.

"Felicity," he groans. 

She kicks at his hips with her bare feet. “Forward, noble steed!”

"Felicity!"

"Oh, come on, Oliver, I’m just kidding-"

"I can’t see."

"Oh!" She shakes her head, clearing some of the cobwebs and pulls the hood back. "Good?"

"Good."

He gets her to the computer-locked safe in one piece, and looms over her as she uses a virus to crack the encryption. The moment the safe opens, the folder inside joins her purse in his jacket, and she finds herself on his back again.

"Where’s Digg?"

"He’s on cleanup. You don’t see seven guys lying around here, do you?"

"So what now?"

"Your choice," he says. "Back to the party, or help us figure out what’s in that file?"

The rush from the zipline and alcohol are fading, and she feels warm and safe despite her silly position. The party holds little appeal. Plus, it involves more ziplining.

"Let’s get this guy."

"Ok," he agrees, and she can hear the smile in his voice. "Hang on tight."

"What? Why can’t you put me down in the elevator?"

"Digg and I had to disable the construction lift."

"So no elevator?"

"Don’t worry, we just have to get down to the 50th floor."

Felicity buries her face in his leather-clad shoulder. It’s going to be one of those nights, isn’t it?

"Just don’t drop me, ok?"


	17. Oliver/Felicity: Flu Shot Recommended

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Oliver and Felicity take care of their sick "child."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from anaveragegirl15 on tumblr.
> 
> Quotation marks/Poetic license re: prompt is all me. SORRY. My brain is weird.

"Oh my god, you’re burning up!"

Felicity reels away from him, her brow knit in concentration. She grabs her phone and dials Oliver, who is on a reconnaissance mission that should have ended half an hour ago.

"You need to come back right now," she says. "He’s being a giant baby and I can’t even get him to lie down."

Oliver Queen doesn’t have an answer for that.

Diggle glares at her from his precarious perch on the side of the lair couch.  

"I’m fine, Felicity."

"He’s not fine, Oliver. You’re not fine, John!" There’s a pause, and Diggle sways slightly. 

Felicity grimaces at the uselessness of the two men, and walks back to Digg, pushing at his chest and tipping him onto the couch. 

"Oliver, I just knocked him over. I should not be able to do that."

There’s a groan from the other end of the line, but she hears him moving. Diggle is shielding his eyes from the lights with his elbow and appears to have fallen asleep.

"I was about done here," Oliver says. "Where is Carly, anyway?"

"Visiting her mom in Central City," Felicity mumbles, distracted by trying to slide the now sleeping man up further onto the couch so his legs aren’t hanging off the side.

"And what do you need  _me_  to do?” he asks, with just a hint of a grumble. 

"Bring blankets, and soup if you can find some. I’ve got ibuprofin here, so we can get his fever down," she’s managed to fold one leg along the arm of the couch, but the other is still hanging loosely over the edge. 

"How am I supposed to get soup? I’m in my suit, Felicity."

Ah, shit, she forgot that. She’s also forgotten to take Digg’s shoes off, and his right foot is now wedged into the couch cushion. She should really take a picture of this. For reasons. That do not include blackmailing her friend with the flu. 

"Well I hope you’re carrying cash," she says. The picture looks good. Now if she could just smush his other leg up there somehow. "And don’t cut in line. Just because you’re a superhero doesn’t mean you don’t have to wait your turn."

Oliver hangs up.

But 10 minutes later, he’s coming down the stairs with two comforters and a large takeout container of chicken noodle. He’s also got Chinese food and all three original Star Wars movies. 

He relocates poor squished, feverish Diggle to the cot and strongarms some medicine into him. Felicity takes a few more pictures, because it’s adorable, and really she’s going to need the leverage. 

When Digg’s asleep again, they both look uncertainly at the couch.

"I mean, I think he only breathed on that section," Felicity says, pointing to the far end.

"I can get a new couch," Oliver assures her as he pulls it out of the way.

They set an alarm for the next dose of medicine, spread out the Chinese food on the floor, and fire up  _A New Hope._  

And if Felicity falls asleep on his shoulder halfway through  _The Empire Strikes Back,_ Oliver pretends not to notice and leaves her there. Nursing is exhausting, after all.


	18. Tommy/Felicity: Benefits of friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Tommy and Felicity, on the verge of being friends with benefits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by absentlyabbie on tumblr.

"If I don’t get laid soon it is going to severely impact my job performance." 

She tosses the shot back to cap off the sentence, and Tommy just grins at her from behind the bar. 

"No likely prospects?"

"Mr. Merlyn, are you stuck in the 1800s?" But she’s smiling, and holds her glass out for a refill. The girl does love her tequila. "And no, at the moment, I am shit out of luck. Andrew from Legal just got engaged, my pizza delivery guy switched neighborhoods and now some old lady drops off my pies, and Oliver is… Oliver."

"Indeed he is," Tommy nods as if he has any clue how her mind works when it comes to Oliver. 

"There is you, though."

He drops the glass he’d been pouring for her in surprise. She makes a moue of disappointment as the tequila drips down his shirt. 

"Is there? I hadn’t realized I was on your list."

"Oh, not like  _that_ ,” she assures him with a wave of her hand. Her eyes are laughing. “But come on, I’m not blind and stupid. You’d know what to do.”

He manages to pour the shot this time, and adds one for himself. Tommy doesn’t break eye contact as she licks the salt off her hand, although he’s suddenly very aware of her pink tongue darting out before she raises her glass. Then they’re sucking on the limes and he’s letting himself think the dirty thoughts he’d always put to one side. 

"I’d know exactly what to do," he agrees, not smiling this time. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips and he groans. "But we’re clear that this is just… I’m providing a service for a friend, here."

"Oh we’re crystal clear," she says. 

They’re in his office before he can choke out  _friends with benefits_ , clothing hitting the floor as the lock clicks into place.

"Oliver is going to kill me," he mutters into her neck. She stretches to meet him, and sighs.

"Oliver is a moron, and oh  _god_ do that again.”


	19. Tommy/Felicity: On y va

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Tommy and Felicity’s first “okay maybe we’re something more than friends” date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from ohemgeeitscoley on tumblr.

He’s late. 

Felicity is pacing her living room, at war with her own mind. 

On one hand, she’s all butterflies and anticipation. A handsome man with a nice smile and awfully blue eyes is coming to pick her up. Eventually.

But he’s not the charismatic billionaire that she’s so carefully structured her dream life around. He’s not Oliver.

She turns the corner and heads back toward the kitchen, anxiously checking her phone. They’ve never done this on purpose before. It’s always been chance meetings and late nights lingering at the club. 

He’d been so earnest when he’d asked if he could take her on a proper date. His hand had also been working her bra free at the time, her legs wrapped around his waist. It had been very nice.  _Very nice._  

Still. Dating? She and Tommy are worlds apart. He is just finding his feet again after Laurel’s apologetic, unsurprising defection back to Oliver last year. She is not technically supposed to know him. 

And they’re going out in public?

She’s got her phone in hand and has scrolled to his number when the doorbell rings. 

"Felicity? I’m so sorry," he calls out. She bites her lip and lets him in.

He’s gorgeous, as usual. Leaner than Oliver, with million-dollar hair and eyes like a Disney princess, he’s impossible to miss in a sharp grey suit. 

"I was starting to think you weren’t going to come," she says, letting the door swing shut behind him. 

His crooked smile offers an apology that she doesn’t really need. What she wants instead is reassurance. 

"I should have called, I know," he sighs, drawing her over to the couch and sinking down onto its arm. "It’s just, I was getting ready, and I couldn’t help thinking…"

"You put that suit on to tell me we’re not going out?" She sits down with a thud, her lavender dress fanning out onto the couch cushions.

"What? No!" He slides down next to her, not quite touching, but close enough that she can feel the heat from his body. "It’s just… I set up this whole evening - a wine bar, La Maison for dinner, then dancing out on the point, but," his hand reaches for hers, and she searches his face in confusion, "that’s my play."

"Merlyn, what the hell are you saying?"

One corner of his mouth quirks up. “Smoak. I’m trying to tell you that I’ve used that sequence of reservations for first dates for the last seven years. It’s infamous. It works really well, too,” he catches himself and stammers, “I mean, it used to, that is, well shit.”

She throws up her hands, standing to shake out her skirt. “If there’s a point in there, I’m missing it. And you’re wrinkling my dress.”

"Felicity." His voice is serious, and she pauses mid-flounce to look down at him. "There’s too much history, too many ghosts. I want a chance to start fresh. With you."

It’s sweet. She feels her heart squeeze a little at the uncertainty in his eyes, so she leans down and captures his lips. When she pulls back they’re both a little flushed and there’s a smudge of pink lipstick by his ear.

"So," she straightens and crosses her arms. "You’re telling me you want to ditch the plan. No wine bar, no La Maison? The new plan better not be Verdant and my bedroom. I’m hungry." 

"Oh, don’t worry," he grins. "The new plan is much better than that."

In the end she tells Oliver she’s going to visit her cousin, suddenly. Tommy doesn’t make an excuse, just says he’s taking a vacation. Stretched out on the Mediterranean sand, Felicity promises herself that she’ll tell Oliver and Digg.

But not today.

Today, they’re driving to Bordeaux for a private wine-tasting.

She’ll tell them tomorrow. Peut-etre.


	20. Oliver/Felicity: Come down now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity gets some first-hand experience with Vertigo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from thenightsign on tumblr.

She doesn’t have much time to panic. 

"You trying to steal from me, pretty girl?"

Oliver’s three floors away, dealing with the kingpin. Diggle is backing him up. This office was supposed to be empty, with the drug dealer’s soldiers drawn to his defense. 

Except, apparently, for the second-in-command. Oops.

"I just, uh, needed a hit." Felicity tries to sound breathy, needy, unconcerned. The flash drive is half-finished executing the program she loaded onto it. She tacks a giggle onto the end, and hears Diggle curse in her ear.

Rolf Holmm is as oily as his pictures suggest, but much larger. He’s also pointing a gun and narrowed eyes in her direction.

"Funny thing is, I locked this door ten minutes ago," he says. "How’d you get in?"

"Ummm," she giggles again to cover the sound of the flash drive beeping its completion. Diggle and Oliver are yelling to each other via comms about who can reach her first. "I’m good with a hairpin."

Rolf reaches behind himself and re-locks the door. She takes advantage of his distraction and shoves the flash drive back into her bra.

He gestures with his gun to the locked cabinet at her back. 

"Show me."

Felicity has no idea how to jimmy a lock with a bobby pin. But she pulls one out and turns to face the cabinet. It can’t be that hard, after all she’s read books on petty theft that suggest - 

The needle feels like a bee sting. She actually swats at her neck. But then her entire body is burning, her vision swims, and Rolf has her pushed up against the cabinets with an arm to her throat.

"Shiiiiiit." Her tongue feels thick, swollen, and unresponsive. She knows how this works. Vertigo kicks in fast, takes you very high, and drops you hard. Pretty soon she’ll be babbling about nonsense and totally unable to defend herself.

"Yeah, that’s right. Look at that face, she knows what’s coming," Rolf growls. "Who the fuck are you and how did you get through that door?"

His voice is scary, and she shrinks back, trying to get away from it. There are so many voices. Angry voices. Felicity claws at her ear and something falls to the ground. The voices quiet.

Rolf steps away to retrieve -  _focus, Felicity! Fight it_ \- the comm she’s just yanked from her ear. When he bends down, she knees him in the face. 

Blood spurts from his nose and she giggles. It’s so sparkly. So red and sparkly… shit. 

She slaps herself a few times and the room slides back into focus. 

"Fuck you, bitch!" Rolf reels back, curses flying. "I think you broke my fucking nose!" His gun is pointed at her again. As she watches, a tongue comes out of the barrel and licks his hand.

She backs away, but the desk is covered in barbed wire and the cabinet wants to eat her hair. There’s no where safe. His words disappear into the howling wind of the tornado in the ceiling and Felicity sinks to the floor, screaming and covering her ears.

She wants to close her eyes, but the darkness is more scary than the way the floor tiles are melting, dripping slowly into the lava pit beneath them. 

The gun has taken over Rolf’s body, and is wearing his arms and legs and searching the room with its sticky pink tongue.

"Please, please, please, please," she whispers to the parrot in the corner. It’s green and black, and looks friendly. "Please help me."

There’s too much light, too much noise. Things are exploding around her. Burning, spinning, falling. 

When the darkness reaches for her, she’s grateful.

**

She wakes up on the cot in the lair to a buzzing in her head and echo-y, far-off voices. 

_"I still say we should take her to a doctor, Digg."_

_"And say what? She was dosed with Vertigo, but we have this home remedy, but we just wanted to check that she’s ok?"_

_"I just don’t like how long she’s been out."_

_"We gave her a drip, there’s not much else we can do."_

Felicity forces her eyes open. Diggle is pacing in front of her, and Oliver is sitting in her chair. She glances at her arm and the IV needle carefully taped into a vein. Interesting.

"Oh my god, I just had the weirdest dream." She whispers, because her throat is scratchy and sore and honestly she might just go back to sleep. Every inch of her hurts. 

Diggle’s at her side in an instant, gently checking her pulse and not-so-gently shining a light into her eyes. 

"Shit, Digg, ow, bright." Words are hard, her brain hurts. 

He backs off. “I think she’s finally coming down.”

Then Oliver’s there, pulling her up into a sitting position despite her vocal “no, really, I’m quite happy lying here” protests.

"Drink this." 

It’s tea. The island kind. She’s never had it before, but it does not smell appetizing. 

"I’m ok."

"Felicity!" Diggle and Oliver speak as one. Apparently she’s drinking the damn tea.

"So," she sips, "eww, this is gross." They don’t look impressed. "What happened? Why was I dreaming of tornadoes and lava pits and a gun with a giant tongue? And I think there was a parrot."

Diggle looks amused at the last thought. Oliver grimaces.

"The Baron left his lieutenant behind to guard the office. He caught you, and dosed you with vertigo before we could reach you. You were in full blown hallucinations when I got there."

"And the parrot was Oliver," Digg adds helpfully. 

"Ah." She buries her face in her tea, processing. "How long?"

Digg looks grim. 

"It’s been all night." Oliver’s face tightens as he remembers. "We’ve been tracking your vitals, but he gave you such a large dose you passed out before I could get any of the island herbs into you."

He shoots a pointed look at the steaming mug in her hands.

"Right. Tea. Drinking." She sips. "Did you get them?"

They both look at her blankly. 

"The… did you take down The Baron? The mission? Come on."

"Felicity," Oliver says slowly. "I’m not sure you understand. You’ve been either passed out or tripping out of your mind for the last 5 hours."

"We were a little busy," Diggle nods. "Besides, you didn’t have a chance to get the blueprints for the warehouse on the docks."

"Which is fine," Oliver hurries to say. Felicity sips again, and ponders this. 

Last night is very fuzzy, that’s for sure. She remembers breaking into the office, and, was there a flash drive? OH!

"Like I’d let a little thing like almost dying of a drug overdose stop me," she mutters. Oliver and Diggle wear matching looks of confusion. 

She sticks a hand gingerly down her shirt, her skin is sensitive right now. It feels like the aftermath of a bad fever. But the flash drive is right where she stashed it. 

"Ta da!" She’s so excited by their surprised faces that she attempts to jump up and go to her computer. She gets halfway there and realizes that she has no sense of balance. Oliver catches her, handing the drive off to Diggle. 

"Ok, hero," he mutters, lifting her into his arms and walking back to the cot. "Can you stop making us look bad? Why don’t you rest, and I’ll be concerned, and we can let Diggle restore his honor by working on those plan."

He’s warm and solid and the sound of his heartbeat helps the room stop spinning. Her eyes slide shut without her permission, and she feels him pluck the mug from her hand. 

This time, the darkness is warm and safe.


	21. Team Arrow: Independence Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: July 4th/barbecue + team Arrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from showmeyourpasodoble on tumblr. (She offered me the choice of olicity/team arrow/flommy, this is what you got.)

It’s supposed to be a party.

July 4th, America’s independence day. Celebrated nationwide with an excess of color, booze and fireworks. 

Starling City isn’t in the mood. 

It’s been mere weeks since the quake that rocked the Glades. The city has decided not to have a fireworks display, in part to honor those who died, but also because they’re afraid the noise would strike fear into the survivors. 

There’s a lot of fear lately. 

Felicity has a big upgrade rolling out next week, and she was planning to use the holiday to get ahead. But Diggle called, and here she is on her way to his buddy’s house, preparing to eat hot dogs in a suburban backyard and feeling lost. 

She only knows John; to call Carly a friend is a stretch, although she feels she knows a lot about her. It’s her first time meeting Carly’s son, John’s nephew. John’s driving, with Carly up front. She and A.J. are sharing the backseat.

It’s been a while since she was this close to someone younger than 10. He’s cute, but inquisitive.

"How do you know Uncle John?"

"I told you, sweetie, she works with him," Carly throw an apologetic look over her shoulder.

"It’s fine." She tugs at her red tank top and nods at the boy. "Yep, we work together." Well, we did.

"So you’re a bodyguard too? Cool! Can you do that flip move that Uncle John can do? Can you flip me when we get to the party Uncle John?"

Diggle jumps in and steers the conversation away from his job. Since Oliver skipped town, he’s been helping Thea Queen with security for Verdant. She’s pulling it back together in memory of Tommy. Oliver apparently signed the papers in the same administrative whirl that gifted her with an absurdly large sum of money and no goodbye.

She’s trying to respect his choices, but every newspaper story bemoaning the state of the city makes her fingers itch for a purpose, a way to help. 

Plus, all right, she misses the grumpy jerk. There are not nearly enough half-naked men running around in her office these days.

**

The cookout is quiet, maybe 25-30 people, all with military backgrounds and kind spouses and kids. She’s very much the odd one out. John and Carly introduce her around, but after the third conversation about “that damn Queen family” (and the host’s slightly tipsy grandmother loudly claiming to have the vigilante tied up in her garage) Felicity runs out of steam.

Smiling her excuses, she ducks away to pick up another beer, and finds herself drawn to the kids drawing in the dust by the swingset. 

"…no, that’s not right. He would never do that. He’s a HERO."

A small girl, maybe 7 years old, is arguing vociferously with a an older boy.

"Well my mom says the Arrow man was part of it all," he says with the air of wisdom that double-digits lend to a childhood argument.

A.J. is following along, wide-eyed. Felicity sits down and looks at the group.

"Whatcha guys talking about?"

"Not grown-up stuff," the boy says quickly. She suspects he’s been told to be quiet once too often in his life. 

"He says the Arrow Man isn’t a hero." The girl crosses her arms and shakes her little red head in frustration. "Everybody knows he is."

A few other children toss out small yeah’s in agreement.

Felicity looks at the older boy. He’s lean and athletic, wearing clothes that are worn and patched at the elbows, knees, and hem. 

"Why don’t you think he’s a hero?" she asks softly. 

"He didn’t save my brother," the boys says matter-of-factly. There are no tears in his eyes, but she suspects he’s already cried them. "Jason died in the earthquake. If the Hood man was a hero, he would have stopped it. Or else he wouldn’t have left."

_We tried,_  she cries inside.  _We tried so hard._

"Maybe," the little girl is speaking before Felicity finds her voice. "Maybe he tried but he was all alone. Maybe he left because he’s sorry."

"It doesn’t matter, he’s not coming back," the boy whispers. She darts across the circle to hug him, and another child comes over and asks if anyone wants to play tag. 

They run off, pleasantly distracted, and leave her sitting in the dust, tears running down her face. 

John finds her there a few minutes later.

"Felicity, what happened? Carly said you looked upset - have you been crying?"

She wipes at her face, trying to minimize the damage to her light makeup. Her eyes are dry, and alongside the sadness she feels over another child losing his life needlessly, a new-found resolve has crystallized. 

"Digg, he needs to come back."

“ _Felicity._ " The warning in his voice is clear. Not here. Not now.

"You know I’m right," she whispers. "This city needs a symbol. We need hope."

He sighs. “They might just crucify him, make him pay for… everything.” The quake. His mother and father’s sins. 

"That never stopped him before." She feels as thought she’s finally stepped onto solid ground after a month at sea. "I know it’s a risk, but it’s the right thing to do. For us, for him. He has to face this."

One of the kids runs giggling past the corner of the yard they’ve occupied, and John stares out at the party. He takes a slow drink, and then stands, offering her a hand up. 

"We don’t even know where he is."

"Do you have that little faith in me, John Diggle?" She smiles. She’s already won and he knows it.

"I’ll help you find him, but that’s it. Convincing him is on you."

"Deal," she says quickly. "How’s the basement at Verdant these days?"


	22. Tommy/Felicity: A different story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Flommy. AU. For whatever reason, it's Tommy who goes with Robert Queen (Sara Lance optional) on the Queen's Gambit that fateful day, and returns changed and with a mission five years later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (this was a series of 3-sentence short fics that were all in the same AU. I may try to turn these into an actual fic at some point.)
> 
> prompt by absentlyabbie on tumblr

They had all welcom him back with open arms - his father, the Queens, Laurel - they take him to their hearts again as though they hadn’t buried him and moved on with their lives. Tommy pretends to believe them when they tell him they’d always hoped, and it makes the lies a little easier to tell when he dons his green hood and crosses names off the list of the only real father he’d ever know.

He knows as he runs from Moira Queen’s office, shot by the woman who’d loved him as a son, that he is too alone; so he limps to her car, leverages himself into the backseat, and waits for Felicity to save him.

***

"I’m not saying your eyes are limpid pools or anything, they’re just very distracting - and I am trying to focus on the task at hand, Merlyn."

"Are you asking me to close my limpid pools and let you fall," he grunts and readjusts, pushing her leg up over his shoulder so she can better reach the control pad in the elevator ceiling, "or is there some other way I can fix this, Smoak?” 

Her dress is riding up, and she’s making distressed noises as she engages in electronic warfare above his head; more to distract himself than her, he says, “This does remind me of a time that Jemma Winters and I were trying to ditch prom…”

***

"You’d think the criminal element in Starling City would appreciate a little flair for the dramatic," Tommy says as the news runs the video of Roscoe Travis, pinned naked to the wall of his illegal brothel by two strategically placed curtains held up with green arrows.

"Flair? Try addiction," Diggle laughs, dancing away from his attack as they joust shirtless on the training mats.

"Merlyn, that’s practically modern art," Felicity comments absently, but he can’t help noticing she’s watching their workout and not the TV over her shoulder.

***

SLAM. Felicity hits the mat hard, the breath knocked out of her. 

"Again." There is no mirth in Tommy Merlyn’s eyes as he helps her up. They’ve been at this for 45 minutes, and she’s feeling more and more like the girl with two left feet in ballet class. 

Sure enough, she throws a wild punch and spins herself back down onto the mat. When she doesn’t rise immediately, she hears Tommy give a groan of frustration and walk away.

She rolls onto her back and watches as he chugs a bottle of water. 

"How long are we working on this?" she asks. "Because too many more wipeouts and I may shake loose the brain that keeps your technology operating."

The glare he shoots her is pure “island Tommy.” There’s a lethal frustration in his gaze, a sense of urgency that she doesn’t feel. 

"Until you can block me," he growls. "You have to be able to do this."

She’s quiet for a minute, just listening as he puts the bottle down on the table and pads back to where she’s lying prone. 

When his handsome face appears over hers, she sighs. “Merlyn, I’m trying. But the chance of someone choosing tonight to attack me…”

"I’d have said that last night," he’s implacable, "and Helena came calling. So we do it again."

But he’s gentler when he hauls her up off the floor. 


	23. Tommy/Felicity: Strip scrabble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Flommy. Tommy hates watching Felicity try to be okay with being the second choice of Oliver Queen, so he decides to show her what being first choice feels like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (another 2-parter from the 3-sentence challenge)
> 
> prompt from ohemgeeitscoley on tumblr

He draws her into the private suite, noting the daisies and daffodils placed around the special-order motherboard he had to send to Japan to procure. 

"Listen, this is very mysterious, Merlyn…" she mutters, although to his delight she obeys and keeps her eyes closed, “but I do actually have work to do, at my job, where they pay me to do things for them that are work and not wandering around hotels with handsome men who… did I say that out loud?”

"You did," he smiles as he removes her hand from her eyes and watches her face light up, "and I’m going to hold you to it later when you’ve thoroughly decimated me at strip scrabble."

***

He makes her wait until they’re a full bottle of wine into the evening before he pulls out the scrabble board; he’s got to even the odds as much as possible. 

Still, 10 minutes into it and he’s already lost both shoes, his tie, his button-down and one sock, while Felicity has only had to drape her cardigan over the chair.

"And you’re sure  _indigent_ is a word… because I’m starting to suspect you’re just using my lack of vocabulary to take advantage of me, Smoak.”

"Two letters with a value over 1, plus four letters over the length minimum…" her smile has grown decidedly predatory as she polishes off her red wine, and he loves it nearly as much as the excited flush in her cheeks. "Better make that 3 items of clothing, Merlyn. One sock and… two shirts? pants and shirt? Or you could just free your lower half all together…"

He stands and grins back at her. “You’re assuming I’ve got three items of clothing left on my lower half. Maybe I went commando.”

They never do finish the game. He considers that a win.


	24. Tommy/Felicity: At your own risk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Flommy; Friends on the verge of more. A tickle fight that pushes things over the edge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (another from the 3-sentence/short fic challenge)
> 
> from absentlyabbie on tumblr

"You’re serious? Your  _knee_ is ticklish?” Tommy grins and stares at her legs, currently lying relaxed across the couch in his office as she waits for him to finish so they can go to lunch.

"Knees, plural," she mutters, not looking up from her tablet. "Both sides, too. It’s really annoying."

"So if I…" he doesn’t get much further than that, because the moment he brushes the inside of her knee she kicks out so hard she catches him in the nose with her kneecap.

Several bloody tissues, a kiss on the cheek and many apologies later, he’s joined her on the couch with a paper towel full of ice cubes against his nose.

"Note to self, never initiate sexy times with Felicity Smoak by tickling," he gripes. Then he freezes, realizing what he’s just said.

"No, you’ll have a lot more luck with showers, back rubs, and cuddling," she murmurs around the phone, the lunch place on hold to take their order for delivery.

He’s rather proud, later, of the manly way he lets the ice fall to the floor as he hauls her into his lap for a real kiss. He’ll buy her dinner instead.


	25. Oliver/Felicity: Take it off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: The time Oliver Queen saw a shirtless Felicity Smoak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> from andyouweremine on tumblr

"Easy, take it easy, Felicity," Diggle soothes, his arm around her waist as he steers her into the basement lair. "It’s ok."

"I have a hold in my side and I’m pretty sure I just bled," she winces as she attempts to navigate the stairs, "ahhhh, all over your upholstery. How are you going to explain that to Carly? Did they make us at the bank? Where’s Oliver?"

"I’m right here," he growls, closing the door behind them and ripping off his hood. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"Oliver." Diggle’s tone is a warning, one that he doesn’t feel like heeding. 

"You didn’t need to get involved, Felicity. I told you specifically NOT to get involved."

"Yeah, and then," she sucks in a breath, gritting her teeth as Diggle sets her on one of the tables and starts to clear away the clutter, "uh, and then the jackass grabbed the pregnant lady and you were clearly busy at the other end of the room with what’s-her-name."

"Enough!" Diggle glares at the two of them. "No more discussion until she’s patched up and rested. I’m going to find more gauze. Oliver, do me a favor and check to make sure there’s nothing in the wound." 

Oliver nods, but doesn’t dignify the reprimand with a reply. Felicity tries to salute, but wobbles on the edge of the table. “What do I do, captain?”

"You just stay upright," he says with a fond smile on his face before heading back to the lockers. 

"Diggle makes a good nurse, doesn’t he?" she asks. Her face is gray, far too pale, and despite Diggle’s charge he’s not sure she can sit up for much longer. 

"Better than me," he admits, finally setting his bow and arrows down. "Let’s see what you’ve got."

"Aren’t you going to…" she yawns, and he knows the blood loss is making her sleepy. "To take me to dinner first? My mom would be outraged."

He shakes his head, fighting a smile. “Shirt off now, Felicity, or I do it.”

Luckily, she’s in her “geek uniform” as she calls it. The button-down is easy enough to peel off her shoulders, although he has to tug a bit when he gets to the left side. The gash is deep, and some of the fibers are caught there.

He crouches down, his fingers gentle as he tests the skin around the wound and looks for grit from her fall. It’s clean, thank god. 

"Well," she says softly, drawing his eyes up to her pale face, now sporting two light pink spots of embarrassment, "at least we’re still within those platonic circumstances."

He can hear the fear in her voice. It reminds him too forcefully of the way his heart had stopped when she’d fallen with a cry. He hadn’t even realized she’d been fighting the Bronze Tiger - she was supposed to be hiding in the crowd, ready to bring the flash drive back to the lair when the fight was over.

Oliver stands and wraps his arms around her, feeling her sag into him. Her bare skin is too cool under his hands, and he looks around the room for a blanket.

"Next time just yell or something to get my attention," he mutters, leaning his cheek on her hair. 

"You never hug me when I yell at you," she says faintly. "Maybe I’ve had the wrong strategy all along."

Digg comes back in and they lay her down. Oliver stays close, and when she grabs his hand before Digg cleans the wound, he squeezes it and hangs on. 


	26. Thea/Felicity/Laurel: All the single ladies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: All the lady characters being friends. That’s all I want.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt from burningletter- on tumblr

"And then he said, ‘Miss, I’m going to need to see some ID,’ and I may or may not have flashed him my boobs."

"Thea Queen," Laurel looks scandalized. "I am not hearing this. I AM NOT HEARING THIS, do you understand me?"

"Relax, Laurel," Felicity grins and refills the brunette’s wineglass. "That’s standard operating procedure at Mardi Gras." Thea nods solemnly. "Although you were… how old, again?"

"Maybe we  _should_  move on to another topic of conversation.” Thea’s crooked smile fools no one. “The two of you are getting along far too well for my liking.”

"I’m just glad Oliver passed along my name when you decided to re-open Verdant," Felicity raises her glass and looks out at the redesigned club. "I appreciate the work and the boss with excellent stories."

"And I’m quite happy to say that your permits look like they’re all in order," Laurel’s smile is fond, proud even. "If these all go through, they should issue a liquor license again within the month."

"It’s not much," Thea sobers a bit, looking around the elegant office. "But I couldn’t let Oliver just demolish it. It meant so much to… him."

Laurel’s eyes well up, and she reaches a supportive hand across the table. Thea takes it and they look at each other tearfully. “It did, it really did. And he’d be so proud of you, sweetie.”

Felicity knows she’s not really a part of this moment, but she still raises her glass in silent toast. Tommy Merlyn’s death is public knowledge, but she knows far too well the private devastation his loss has caused. 

"He would also tell us to stop moping and pick the DJ for opening night," Thea says brightly, wiping at her eyes. "So let’s start listening to these demos. I expect enthusiasm, ladies, or else I bring out the Tequila."


	27. Team Arrow: Home for the holidays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Is it too early for something festive?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (edited because I forgot detail in my pre-premiere excitement)
> 
> prompt from nalex1013 on tumblr

"All I’m saying is she put a lot of effort into this," Diggle says as they round the corner to the basement door. "So don’t be an ass."

Oliver attempts to look offended, before deciding that he’s much too tired. 

"Digg, I got it. As long as it’s not blinking lights and musical motion sensors, I’ll be fine."

His friend and supposed bodyguard shoots him a suspicious look, then keys in the password and swings open the door. 

"Well then, after you," he mutters. "Don’t screw this up, Queen."

Oliver pushes past him and is struck by how pleasant it  _smells_  downstairs. Pine and cinnamon and a hint of cloves… wait, pine? She couldn’t have actually…

"Oliver!" Felicity is, as Digg had warned, excited. She practically squeaks his name, then looks behind him to Digg for reassurance. "So I, uh, decorated this year."

He takes in the 6-foot tree, the white lights strung across the ceiling, the pine boughs wrapped around his targets. It’s not overwhelming, there’s not music blaring or aggressive sparkling that would annoy or distract. He also sees the blue garland and menorah on Felicity's desk, and last year's Christmas flashes through his mind like yesterday. 

"It’s… it’s nice." He looks back at her hopeful face, sees it deflate a bit at the lackluster praise. "Homey. I like it Felicity."

"See, Digg! I told you he wouldn’t mind."

"You still went with asking for forgiveness over permission," Diggle smiles and moves to his station. 

They chatter on, about the case, the holiday, the weather. But Oliver takes another moment to just absorb the moment. The only two people in the world who know everything, happy and healthy and here. With him. 

Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukkah, indeed. 


	28. Oliver/Felicity: Catch me when I fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Felicity gets caught in a compromising position.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt from befitandchase on tumblr

"Hi, I’m Felicity."

"Barry."

"So those were some good reflexes, Barry."

"What can I say, I’m quick on my feet."

"What the  _hell_  is going on here?”

Felicity cringed at the tone in Oliver’s voice. Beneath her, she felt her new friend Barry tense, and before she could blink she was flipped over and pulled to her feet. He stood a half step in front of her, looking small and wiry next to Oliver’s bulk. 

"Oliver, this is, uh, Barry. Barry is a nice man who was kind enough and fast enough to break my fall down the stairs. Barry, this is Oliver. He’s a judgmental boss who needs to learn to think before he speaks." She snapped out the last bit, smoothing her hair down and trying to appear in control of the limbs that had just been wrapped around the handsome young man to her left. 

Oliver and Barry were both staring at her, and it was Oliver who found his tongue first.

"You’ve got, uh, your skirt…"

She looked down but her dress appeared normal in the front. She tentatively ran a hand down her back and realized that her skirt was bunched up at the top of her butt. 

She yanked it down and crossed her arms. 

Oliver grinned back at her. She raised one eyebrow. He sighed and turned to the bemused Barry.

"Nice to meet you, Barry. What did you say your last name was?"

"Allen, Mr. Queen. Barry Allen."


	29. Tommy: I'm still here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: ALIVE TOMMY. BEFORE HIS DEADNESS IS SHOVED IN OUR FACES.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt from absentlyabbie, who will likely never forgive me, on tumblr

Tommy Merlyn doesn’t die. 

He’s there with Thea, cheering her on when she somehow scrapes a high school graduation together. His smile is one of the brightest, and she floats on his approval for days. 

He’s there when Laurel takes on the new challenge of the DA’s office, helping her think through the boundaries she has to set between her work and her father, her love life, and her happiness. They cuddle on the couch and talk softly. 

He’s there to see Oliver’s return to the city. His friend, once a man he’d have called a brother, so hollow inside that he hardly recognizes him. They reconnect slowly, tentatively, each accepting the other’s limits, each understanding the other’s pain. 

He visits Moira Queen in prison, and tells her he forgives her. That he understands. That he is sorry for his father’s part in all of this. She cries on his shoulder, and he holds her hand. 

He sits with John Diggle in the burger joint, trading Oliver stories and wondering how to keep their friend safe when he decides to put himself between Starling City and the worst of the criminal element. He gets fries with extra ketchup, and finishes them all. 

He walks Felicity home, some nights, just to be nice. And because he gets a kick out of hearing her ramble on about Oliver, Diggle, Thea, Laurel, and himself. She worries about all of them, wonders how they’ll pull through. She’s a good friend, and he’s glad he knows that now. 

He watches, from a safe distance, as the police search and scan for his father. They’re looking for his body, but Tommy is pretty sure they won’t find it. He and Oliver will likely have to face him down again.

Tommy Merlyn isn’t gone, but he’s not here either. In death he gets the chance to really know the people who mattered in life. He’ll stay with them until the end of this story. 

Even if they don’t know he’s there. 


	30. Team Arrow: Destroyer of Jackets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a post wondering just why Oliver had taken his jacket off in the last scene of the first episode.
> 
> Oliver destroys a lot of jackets. Felicity notices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt from slowdancinginasundrenchedroom on tumblr

"Oliver, wait!"

Felicity hurries to catch him in her heels. He’s got a full head of steam, and she can tell he’s furious with the entire afternoon: takeover meeting, violent interruption of said meeting, trip through a plate glass window, parting jabs of said takeover meeting.

But he waits.

"Felicity, I need very much to punch something. I don’t want that to be you. Speak quickly."

"It’s just, your jacket. There’s a huge tear on the side. If you don’t want to advertise what just happened you probably should take it off."

He and Digg both look at his suit jacket in surprise. Sure enough, there’s a tear under his right arm that goes from armpit almost down to his waist. 

**

Diggle has a spare jacket in the car, and Oliver is tidy and ready to face the police when he gets to Verdant. He takes this one off just as soon, though, when he suits up to go save his sister.

Felicity makes a mental note anyway. It could potentially be a huge problem, if he gets caught in Oliver Queen clothing during a vigilante situation. 

**

He’s getting into the car the next day, having just delivered Walter and the news to Isabel Rochev, when she notices. 

"Two jackets in two days?" She had tried to argue that she should be driving herself, but Oliver waved her off with something about executive staff always traveling with their bosses. Diggle’s eyes had danced. Felicity is saving that discussion - she is no one’s assistant - for another time. But she takes the ride.

She scoots to the side, to let him slide in next to her. 

"What do you mean?" He unbuttons it as he sits down, and checks the sides for repeat damage. "It looks fine."

Diggle puts the car in motion and she shakes her head at her erstwhile boss. 

"Right shoulder, just under the arm." She waits as he checks, and has to grin at the scowl. "You didn’t  _do_  anything, though.”

"Damn thing’s too small," he grouses, contorting in his seat to pull it off. "I think my measurements changed a bit while I was on the island."

"How in the hell did you gain muscle while on a deserted island escape?" Diggle can’t hide his amusement.

"Did you take protein powder this time?" Felicity narrows her eyes.

Oliver stares her down. “I climbed a lot of trees, luckily for you.”

He folds the jacket into her lap. Felicity stares at it for a moment, disappointment strong in her gut.

"So apparently we’re going to have this conversation now," she says.

"Hmmm?"

"I am not your assistant," she balls the jacket up in one hand and shakes it at him. "I will not be getting your dry cleaning or coffee or taking messages. I am an MIT graduate who is very very good at her very technical, highly skilled job."

He snaps his seatbelt on and reaches out to unclench her fist from around the fabric. It distracts her, the feel of his strong hand curling around each of her fingers and gently straightening it out. When the crumpled jacket falls free, she jumps a little.

"I am aware of that," he says, picking it up off the floor. "Which is why you’re getting a promotion to Executive Technological Advisor. And I was trying not to wrinkle my Armani."

She spends the rest of the ride to the club staring carefully out of the window and  _definitely not_  seeing the amused looks he and Diggle keep sharing.


	31. Tommy/Felicity: Hold me now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, you just need a hug. (Prompt: flommy bffs and snugglebuddies)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt from absentlyabbie on tumblr

Really, it was all Oliver’s fault. 

Felicity liked to rationalize it that way, usually around hour two of a movie, when she was feeling particularly cozy, sitting curled up next to Tommy Merlyn with his arm around her and her head on his shoulder.

**

"He just, he needs a friend," Oliver had said a few weeks ago. "The Glades falling, his father, Laurel, it hit him hard. And he isn’t ready to talk to me."

So she’d been sent bearing gifts, awkwardly explaining the care Oliver had put into the choice and even more awkwardly explaining that no, she couldn’t just take them home herself. Because Oliver would know.

"He’s an asshole, he doesn’t communicate, but he’s honestly trying to do the right thing. I don’t know if he’s there yet, but you should have seen him when he first… wait, that’s not helping. Tell me to stop talking anytime, please."

Tommy had laughed, and invited her in, and insisted on splitting the bottle of wine and talking about anything besides Oliver and Laurel and the Glades. 

She’d learned that he liked kung fu movies, although he’d once hated them because his father had left him as a child to train in martial arts on the other side of the world. He hated carrots and string cheese (“What is the  _point_?”) but conceded the appeal of popsicles. 

Felicity was on her last glass, and the conversation had lulled, when he mentioned that he was just so lonely right now.

"It’s hard," she said, "going from a relationship full of affection to nothing. I think the last time I was hugged was…" Actually, it was when Oliver had her hold him so they could swing across an elevator shaft at Merlyn Global. But that wasn’t the right thing to say. "…weeks ago."

They finished the wine, and she called a cab. 

"It was a real pleasure, Felicity Smoak," he said. 

"Same, Tommy Merlyn," she smiled. When he opened his arms with an eyebrow quirk, she hesitated, worried that he’d think she meant something she didn’t.

But she’d really wanted that hug. It was worth it. He hugged with both arms, laying a cheek against the top of her head. She felt warm and happy and content. 

The cab pulled up and she stepped away. 

**

He called her again the next week. There was a new film festival in a quiet theater downtown, the kind where there wouldn’t be press and crazy crowds. Foreign films, a few kung fu classics. 

"It’s too messy for anything but friendship," she said. "I just want to be clear."

"I’m just working on human contact of any sort," he said with a smile in his voice. "Don’t worry."

She wore a comfy sweater and jeans, and almost didn’t recognize him out of his suit. The movie they chose was full, with only a few single seats open, scattered around the small theater. 

Tommy winked and pulled her to the most central. When he settled her on his lap and wrapped his arms around her, she waited for the move to come. For him to make it weird.

He didn’t. Just watched the movie, and held her. She wasn’t sure when she relaxed back into him, but by the end of it she had her feet tucked up to his side, and they were trading laughs about the bad English dubbing. 

He slung an arm over her shoulders on the walk home, and asked about her parents. College. Whether she was a cat or dog person.

It was comfortable and easy. And so very nice.

**

She didn’t call him until they’d hung out a few more times. But it had been a long day. She’d fought with Oliver about a mission and yelled at Diggle when it all went wrong. 

When she got home, her thermostat was broken and she couldn’t get her apartment up above 55 degrees. 

He answered on the second ring.

"Ms. Smoak! How are you this fine day?"

"Do you actually own the entire Mummy trilogy?"

"That I do. On blu-ray."

"I’m coming over. And you’d better have ice cream."

She knew she was supposed to check. To make sure it was convenient for him. 

But when she got there he opened his arms and she walked into them. 

"Shitty day?"

"You have no idea."

"Anyone I know die?" He rarely acknowledged her work with Oliver.

"No. Just my dignity, and self-respect."

"I have just the fix."

His TV room was warm, and the television itself was big enough to fill an entire wall of her little bedroom. Since she’d been coming over, he’d started stocking extra blankets to the side of the couch (she was always a little colder than him) and she made a beeline for them now.

He pulled out the peanut butter and fudge chunk ice cream and handed her a bowl drowned in whipped cream and hot fudge. Then he tucked himself in beside her and turned on The Mummy.

She woke up halfway through the second film, when he turned it off. At her sleepy protests, he picked her up and dropped her on his bed.

"Better sleep off all that sugar, Smoak." He moved to the closet and pulled out a shirt and sweats. "If your heat’s broken you can crash here."

They didn’t bother to send someone out to the couch. As she drifted off to sleep in his arms, she wondered what the chances of ice cream for breakfast were, and smiled.


	32. Team Arrow + Tommy: Scotch and popcorn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If only Oliver still had a friend to run that EA decision by... (prompt: Tommy’s reaction to Oliver making Felicity his EA.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt from macyaudenstar on tumblr

"I’m sorry, can you just say that one more time so I can fully revel in its utter stupidity?" Tommy grins a little maliciously as Oliver groans and rubs his hands over his face. 

"You heard me the first time. I told her I couldn’t be expected to…" he trails off in frustration and gestures uselessly at the empty room.

"…to use an elevator, as CEO. Oh yeah, I just wanted to make you say it again, because wow." Tommy re-ups their glasses with the top-shelf scotch and shudders. "And to think you once had style with women."

"Shut up, Tommy." Oliver slams his back and stares glumly at the bar. "She’s furious. She does her job, helps at nights, but her… her smile doesn’t reach her eyes."

Tommy tips his own glass and feels the smooth liquor glide a warm path down to curl in his belly. He watches Oliver pick at a rough spot on the polished bar and finally asks, “So what are you going to do about that?”

"Apparently, I’m going to drink," Oliver says, grabbing the bottle and sloshing his own refill. 

Tommy swirls the amber liquid in his glass and considers. “How did you think she was going to react when you changed her job title without consulting her? That’s pretty bush league in any case, and she’s… Felicity.”

Oliver finally lifts his gaze and meets Tommy’s eyes across the bar. “I know. I wasn’t thinking - this whole mess with Rochev and Laurel being so… angry about the Hood’s role in the Glades…”

They both drink at that. It had been hard for Tommy, watching Laurel back away from them both after the quake. He doesn't like keeping this secret from her, but even he can see that she is not reasonable right now. Losing one’s father did that to people. 

"Felicity knows all that," he says finally. "I mean, she’s one of your closest friends. She believed in you when Diggle and I both thought you were nuts. And then you just… dammit, Oliver."

"I know," Oliver says. 

"You can’t do flowers. And she already has all the coolest tech. It’s going to need to be big," Tommy says. 

"Really big."

"Like, a European vacation, or stock options, or…"

"Or an actual apology?" Oliver sighs into his drink. 

"Yeah, that big." Tommy smiles. "And promote her to something technical. Still exec, but, you know, to fit the MIT credentials."

Oliver nods, looking marginally more hopeful. “I can do that. Maybe I’ll get her an assistant, too. For the coffee and… things.”

Tommy raises his glass. “I’ll toast to that idea. Now can we talk about how much better a club manager Thea is than you ?”

******

In the lair, Felicity and Diggle munch popcorn around a computer screen, the security cameras from Verdant zoomed in tightly on the two men’s face. She’s running lip reading software and has it set to text-to-voice, so a digital composite of their conversation is broadcast over the speakers. 

She’s still blushing a bit from the “smile doesn’t reach her eyes” comment. Diggle had done nothing more than raise an eyebrow, but she hadn't realized Oliver was so… bothered. And then Tommy says “She’s Felicity” with such meaning. And she’s questioning whether this little spy game was such a good idea.

Then they start talking about apologies.

"I don’t have  _all_  the tech,” she complains, throwing a handful of kernels at the image of her boss. 

"But you do have the expense account credit card," Diggle reminds her, tossing his own popcorn up straight in the air and catching it in his mouth. "So you can just tell him you’re buying whatever it is you want."

"True," she says, munching thoughtfully. "And an assistant would be nice."

Diggle eyes her from his seat. “Do my ears deceive me? Is MIT ready to forgive Mr. Queen his hubris?”

"Shhh, not yet," she laughs. "Apology first. He’s got to learn to talk to us  _before_  he does this stuff. We’re a team. I’m teaching him a valuable life lesson about friendship and communication.”

Diggle rolls his eyes. “And getting an assistant and a promotion out of it.” His smile belies the teasing words. 

"Hey," she tosses a kernel of popcorn at him, which he catches one-handed before popping it in his mouth. "You know I will tirelessly campaign for you as Chief Queen Consolidated Badass and, you know, head of security if you want it."

He shrugs. “Nah, bodyguard and driver does the job. But the sentiment is appreciated. And we are a team. He’s an idiot if he forgets that. Any movement on that Russian arms dealer?” 


	33. Tommy/Felicity: Nice to meet you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Burgers make everything less awkward. (Prompt: Flommy, first meeting, big belly burger)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt from every-atom-of-your-existence on tumblr

He doesn’t meant to keep going back. But the burgers are so  _good_. The first few times he drags Oliver with him, but his best friend is sometimes annoyingly hard to reach. 

So he starts sitting at the counter, on one of the rotating stools, and makes small talk with Carly about the weather, the vigilante, the pie of the day.

He’s expounding on the reasons that apple will  _always_  be better than rhubarb when Carly’s eyes snap to the door. She grins and waves someone over, and he politely goes back to his burger while she works. 

But the someone is sitting  _right_ next to him in the crowded diner, so he can’t help but overhear.

"Felicity! I haven’t seen you in ages. Tell John he needs to bring you by more," Carly chatters as she pours a glass of water and hands the girl a menu. Tommy’s interest is piqued - does Oliver’s bodyguard have a girlfriend? He’d pegged him as conflicted but interested in the lovely Carly, but maybe blondes were more his type?

He slides a look to the side and almost chokes when she starts talking.

"Oh, he keeps suggesting it, but Oliver’s an awful boss. All we’ve been eating is Chinese takeout. I only made it over today because I’m running errands nearby."

 _Oliver?_ Tommy turns to get a better look at the girl to his left just as she reaches for the water glass. 

Bam. Instant ice breaker, the old water-in-the-lap trick. She’s horrified and he’s soaking wet, and Carly can’t stop laughing as she hands them towels.

"Oh my god, I had no idea you ate burgers," she stammers, "I mean, I didn’t expect you to be eating these burgers, oh hell, let’s just go with - I’m really sorry I just dumped ice water down your pants Mr. Merlyn."

He pauses in the act of sopping up the puddle to grin at her. “Well that’s not fair,  you already know my name. Does catching your water with my lap at least get me an introduction?”

She swallows and looks a little guilty, he notes with interest, but holds out her hand. 

"I’m Felicity Smoak."


	34. Oliver/Felicity: A little too close

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Olicity, glad-you’re-alive hugs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt from andyouweremine on tumblr

It’s close this time. Way too close. 

Her scream echoes through the room, the warning she gives him the difference between life and death as he dodges the incoming rounds. But it leaves her exposed. 

Felicity takes down three of them with the moves he and Digg have been teaching her before the two ringleaders drag her out of the room at gunpoint. Oliver is stuck fighting through a crowd of heavily armed thugs. So much for their quiet smash and hack. 

He finds them on a balcony, Felicity tied to the railing, but standing precariously on the outer ledge with her back to the entire fight. There’s a gash on her arm and a gun still to her head, and waiting for Diggle to get in position with the sniper rifle is one of the hardest things he’s ever had to do.

He’s trying not to kill anymore, to be worthy of Tommy’s memory and his team’s faith. 

But the man and woman on the balcony floor won’t be standing trial. 

She slips as he uses an arrow to slice through the duct tape they’d secured her with, one foot sliding off into the open air as her shoe falls 23 stories down to the pavement. He hauls her back up with both arms, and when she’s back inside the railing, he just hangs on. 

Because that was too close.

After a moment of hesitation, she leans into him, wrapping her arms around his waist and squeezing. 

"Well, I’m very glad I saved your life back there," she mutters into his chest, "so that you could save mine up here. Go team."

His lips twitch up into a smile he buries in her blonde hair.

"Me too, Felicity," he says. "Me too."


	35. Tommy/Felicity: Guilty pleasures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They are being total adults about this. Mild raunch. (Prompt: Flommy. They are each other’s guilty pleasure.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt from absentlyabbie on tumblr

Felicity only has a few habits she won’t own up to when her friends press her. One is tech support to the vigilante, or now, she supposes, it’s the Arrow. Another is her terrible addiction to 1980s cartoons. 

Oh, and she still hasn’t told anyone she’s sleeping with Tommy Merlyn. Anyone. Not her boss or his bodyguard, not her best friend since fourth grade, not her mother or her neighbor who’s had to knock on the wall a few times. And definitely not her work crew, who keep asking why she’s not making it to karaoke nights anymore. Even when she was doing vigilante work, she’d managed to keep that up, at least in part. 

But Wednesdays are the nights that Tommy gets off early from the club, and he shows up at her apartment with a bottle of obscenely good wine, takeout from a restaurant she’s never even heard of, and lots and lots of time.

They make good use of that time. She’s always a bit sore and tired on Thursdays.

She knows he hasn’t told Oliver or anyone either. They’re skirting the issue. He’s said something, once or twice, about “needing to talk” but it gets put off in favor of shedding clothes or eating fudge sauce off his abs or just slamming him up against the wall in the hallway and never even making it to the couch. 

Like tonight.

"Shit, Smoak, we’ve got to do that slower next time," he breathes, shifting her on top of his mostly naked body. "I think I saw your foot up by my shoulder. I am truly impressed."

He nuzzles into her neck and she lets herself close her eyes for a minute and imagine a world where Oliver and Laurel and the Queens and the Merlyns aren’t all giant complicating factors. Then his mouth drifts south, and she laughs throatily. 

"Mmmm, I could probably give a little demonstration, Merlyn." She stretches and hits her elbow on the wall, letting out a surprised yelp. He grimaces and kisses it better. "But let’s take this to a softer surface, yeah?"

They’ll talk another time. Right now they’re busy.


	36. Oliver/Felicity: Trust must be earned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trust is complicated. (Prompt: Oliver has to convince Felicity that he could be different if he dated her, i.e. he wouldn’t cheat on her. Felicity isn’t easily convinced.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt from redbrunja on tumblr

"Don’t you trust me?"

Felicity looked Oliver straight on, reading the serious sincerity in his face, and sighed. 

"That’s not a question you want to ask me," she said. 

"Felicity," he drew back, a stunned look in his eyes. "Explain."

She stepped away from him, away from the physical pull she felt when she was around him. She had very, very good reasons to keep that distance between them. Reasons that he refused to acknowledge.

"Do I trust you? It depends, Oliver. It absolutely depends on what we’re talking about," she snapped. 

He watched her pace, his eyes hooded and his face shuttered into his trademark blank look. She knows that look, and doesn’t regret triggering it tonight. 

"If we’re talking about my life - whether I will keep breathing and see another sunrise - yes. I trust you absolutely. You have a really good track record there," she said slowly. "But you want to talk about… about  _us_?”

She shook her head and stopped in her tracks, looking back at him. 

"First of all - how typically you, to decide that now is the time, that you’re ready, that the stars are in alignment. Laurel’s otherwise occupied and Isabel’s busy slowly stealing away your top executives. You want to know why I didn’t kiss you right then?" she asked, swallowing the tremor that threatened. "You didn’t bother to find out if I was ready."

"I asked - I didn’t push," he said softly, but there was a hesitation that gave her strength. He was at least listening.

"Well, I’m not, Oliver. I have stood by you and watched as women come and go in your life, as you struggle to be present for them, as you close them out, cut them off, lie to them, and… and cheat on them."

"That’s not fair," he was quick to intercede. "Sara and Laurel, it was a long time ago."

"Not long enough," she said, resuming her pacing. "You came home, and instead of selling the public a quiet, reclusive Oliver Queen, or an avid camper Oliver Queen, or a do-gooder volunteer Oliver Queen, you decided your best cover was to party and sleep around. What does that say about how much has really changed?"

"Felicity…" He didn't say anything else. But she could hear the disappointment, the hurt in his voice. 

"Oliver, I’m still here. I’m in this for the long haul. But us? The two of us? I know too much about you, at this point. I just… I can’t."

She heard him stand up from the table, taking a few steps toward her. 

"I’m sorry," he said.

"I wish I believed you," she answered tiredly. "Or that you even understood what you were apologizing for."

She held the tears back as he walked to the door.

Diggle found her curled in her chair, quietly wiping her face as her mascara ran further and further down her cheeks. 

He didn’t have to ask what had happened. The hug felt good. 


	37. Tommy/Felicity: Morphine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes love hurts. (prompt: Flommy. He didn’t mean to say he loved her.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt from ohemgeeitscoley on tumblr

He knows Oliver is coming. John too. 

But Felicity gets to Tommy first. She makes the stunningly heroic and massively stupid decision to take John’s spare and provide backup after Tommy’s first attempt at fast-talking a Chinese mobster goes horribly south. 

She’s a terrible shot; she never wants to practice when John offers his services. (That might be Tommy’s fault, as he often has… other offers to fill her spare time.) So her warnings go wide, bouncing threateningly off the stacks of sheet metal in the empty warehouse. Menacing enough to distract his captors from the task they’ve set of stringing him up to shake Oliver’s identity free. 

Then they start shooting at her. 

He’s never felt so utterly powerless. Tied to a chair, with no ability to help, to dive in front of the gunfire or just shove her out of the way. 

"Just go!" he manages to yell, before one of the thugs stuffs something damp and rank into his mouth. 

She stays stubbornly in place.

Oliver manages to get to the opposite entrance, but not before a few of those bullets find their mark. Felicity stumbles, slides down behind a shelf as Tommy watches, horrified. Oliver and Tommy’s eyes meet, panic in both of their faces.

Tommy has never seen him quite so efficient in eliminating his foes. 

Diggle cuts him loose, and he’s off like a shot, his probably-broken arm forgotten.

She’s too still, too pale. 

"God, no. I love you. Felicity!"

It falls, dropping like a whispered stone into the suddenly silent warehouse. Both Diggle and Oliver turn to look at him so fast he’s surprised he’s not currently pinned to the wall with arrows in his favorite socks. (Ok, so maybe he hadn’t been quite honest last month when Oliver tried a friendly interrogation about him and Felicity. But she’d wanted to keep it between them, at least for now.)

Then the two of them snap back into hero mode. Shirts are sacrificed for makeshift bandages, and Oliver scoops up Felicity’s limp body. Tommy wants to protest, but he’s only got one good arm. Diggle checks the exits, and then they’re moving fast enough that Tommy’s left gasping to keep up.

Twenty minutes later, she hasn’t moved. Still lying on the cot where they placed her so John and Oliver can carefully check her wounds and stitch her up. 

Tommy weakly argues for a hospital. Oliver takes him aside while Digg finishes, and sets his arm.

"I know it looks bad," his best friend says, "but she’ll be ok, Tommy."

"She’s not you, Oliver," he swears as the splint goes on. "She doesn’t magically regenerate."

Oliver levels him a gaze filled with mildly amused reproach. “Neither do I. But if she’d been critical, we’d have taken her to the ER. She’s going to hurt, but she’s not going to die. I promise.”

He finishes with Tommy’s arm and grimaces at it. “You’re probably going to need a cast, buddy. What were you thinking?”

"…that I could get the information without tipping them off? Which was obviously false, since instead of offering me a drink they knocked me out and took me to the torture warehouse of fun. Nice guys."

"I meant - when did you and Felicity… you told me there was nothing."

"I, uh," Tommy swallows the apologies; they agreed a long time ago, after a loss that nearly broke them as individuals but brought them together in grief, that they had to stop apologizing to each other for just trying to be happy. "She makes me happy. Do you know how long it’s been…"

"Of course I do," Oliver says softly. "Since Laurel died in the quake."

"She was nervous, wanted to wait and see how it played out before telling anyone," he says. "She’s going to be so mad at me."

Diggle cuts in. “All set here. And I think you’ll be ok, Merlyn. She wasn’t quite unconscious when we got to her.”

Tommy blinks at them. “She - but she was so white!”

"Well losing blood will do that." Felicity’s voice is quiet, and the three men move to circle around her. "Oh, hey. Look at that. My guys. My very handsome guys. You are all. so. handsome. Haaaandsome!"

Diggle grins and goes to clean up the medical supplies. “That’ll be the morphine.”

"Mmmm, morphine." She smiles contentedly. "This is going to hurt later, isn’t it?"

"It is. Next time let me go through the door first," Oliver kisses her forehead and smiles as he goes to change out of his Arrow outfit.

That leaves Felicity and Tommy. 

He sinks into a chair next to her, suddenly exhausted. She’s looking at him with a comically confused expression.

"What, Smoak?" he asks fondly, slipping his free hand into hers. "Spit it out."

"Just wondering," she says with an exaggerated widening of her pretty eyes, "if I might have heard you correctly while I was bleeding on the floor back there."

"Uh," he stammers, "y-you might have to be a little more specific. There was a lot of yelling. And bleeding."

"But just one sentence that involved three words and my name," she singsongs. "Oh my god this medicine is amazing."

He laughs, and has to catch himself when it almost turns into a sob of relief. “God, you scared me.” He leans over and lays his head next to hers on the pillow. “Don’t ever do that again.”

"You loooooove me," she says sleepily. "I guess I better not."


	38. Team Arrow: Do you trust me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or, how John talked Felicity into jumping out of a plane in the season 2 pilot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt from absentlyabbie on tumblr

"No!"

John smiled. He’d known this fight was coming, it was why he hadn’t pushed Felicity when she always glossed over the drop plan in their prep work. 

"Felicity," he said calmly. "We have a drop window of 10 minutes. We don’t have time for this."

"Digg!" Her voice was high, amplified by the confines of the small plane. "I can’t - you know I can’t."

He reached around her for the buckle on her seatbelt. She whacked at his hands half-heartedly, but he snapped it free. 

"Come on," he said, offering his hand. She groaned, but took it, and he pulled her clear of the seat, into the back of the plane. 

She was scared. She was tired. She looked like she might puke at any moment.

He was incredibly proud of her.

"You want to find Oliver, don’t you?" he asked, two hands on her shoulders. 

She nodded miserably. 

"You’ve done all the hard work," he said. "Now you have to let me get you down there in one piece."

"I’ve never - I’ll pull the wrong thing and just be a big splatter on the beach," she said. "We didn’t practice this."

"You’re right," he said, "we didn’t. But I’ve done jumps on three continents under heavy fire. I’ve taught soldiers and civilians." 

Her face was a picture of conflicting urges. They were so close, he knew she wanted to see this through. But he also knew that she was terrified. 

He held out the tandem chute apparatus. “I was never going to let you do this alone.”

She wavered. “I just jump with you?”

"Yes, ma’am."

"Well, maybe I - I could just close my eyes."

"That’s my girl," he grinned. "As AJ would say, usually while throwing apples at me - ‘Do you trust me?’"

She gave a reluctant smile. “Our very own magic carpet ride?”

"Damn straight," he nodded, clipping her in and signalling to the pilot that he was going to open the stairs.

"If we die, I am going to kill Oliver."

"Deal." He walked them to the door. "All right, Felicity. On 3."


	39. Oliver/Felicity: Word choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre-episode speculation on that "penetration" line.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt from ladybuglloyd on tumblr

"But Oliver, what you have to understand is that your new, reformed image is not penetrating the board well enough," Moira snapped after her son made excuses, again, as to why he could not commit more time to schmoozing executives.

"Well, I think he penetrates just fine," Felicity said, shocked at the turn of the conversation.

The entire room fell silent, and Moira, Isabel, Oliver and their support staff all turned to look at Felicity. 

Oliver winced, but his eyes were laughing. 

No one else seemed amused. 

"… _because_  the latest numbers from the board show that his support has gone up 35 percent since the last meeting, and the addition of the Senator and the Congresswoman should help those numbers,” she finished, refusing to give in to the blush that threatened. “As you can see on page four of the packet.”

Slowly, they all turned to look at the carefully professional study Felicity had spent far too many hours perfecting. Finally, only Oliver was watching her and not looking to his own papers.

The meeting continued, as heated as ever, but the text she got five minutes later had her biting back a smile.

_Penetrating insight. Glad you’re on my team. — OQ_


	40. Tommy/Felicity: Kiss me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity makes a bet. Tommy helps her keep it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt from absentlyabbie on tumblr

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh  _shit_.” She’s muttering under her breath as she grabs his hand and drags him out onto the club floor. 

It’s loud, so he only catches the gist of her unhappiness. 

"Felicity?" he yells, hanging onto her as she pulls him farther into the mass of people. "I thought you went home!"

She stops abruptly, turning to face him with a worried expression and guilty eyes. He’s immediately concerned.

"What’s wrong?" He leans down, putting his head close to hers so he can hear her answer clearly.

Her hands come up to his shoulders to hold him there. 

"It’s - oh  _shit_ _-_ listen, it’s stupid. I’m stupid. This whole idea is stupid.”

"Talk to me," he reassures her, wrapping an arm around her and pulling her toward him when another dancer grinds too close.

"I - I need your help, Tommy," she says, dead serious. "It’s really important."

"Anything, you know that," he pulls back enough to look her in the face.

"Oh  _god,_ " she groans. "Stop being so nice. Ineedyoutomakeoutwithmerightnowtowinabet."

He blinks. Then he gestures around the dance floor to indicate that he couldn’t hear anything she just said. Because he’s almost certain she didn’t just ask him to kiss her.

To win a bet?

She’s bright red at this point. “It doesn’t matter, I’ll just let Thea win this one. We were playing truth or dare and she wants me to do her homework for a month, and I am opposed to that on principle, so-“

He leans in, catching her busy mouth with his own. It’s awkward for a moment, her teeth clash with his as she realizes she can stop speaking and he adjusts his angle. He slides his other hand around her neck and really leans into it.

She makes a needy little noise in the back of her throat and presses close to him, and god,  _yes,_ this is something he’s wanted to do for a long time.

When they break apart, she’s breathless. So he speaks first. 

"Remind me," he murmurs against her ear, feeling her shiver against him. "What constitutes making out? Because I want to make sure you win this bet. I wouldn’t want there to be any argument."

"Oh, shut up and kiss me," she laughs. The music swells helpfully as she pulls his mouth back down to hers.


	41. Tommy/Felicity: Under the circumstances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Tommy/Felicity, touch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt from absentlyabbie on tumblr.

"Hang on, I’ve got you," the voice is sure and deep, but she’s too hazy to place it. She had thought maybe Oliver - but no. 

The hands that just checked her arms for injury don’t have Oliver’s iron strength. There’s a softness to his touch, a gentleness that Oliver lost a long time ago. 

As her mysterious rescuer moves the rubble holding the table on top of her, she twists her head to get a better look at him. 

Oh. That was unexpected. She draws in a sharp breath. 

_Ow._

"Tommy?" she says in total confusion. "What are you doing here? You don’t even know me."

"Oliver called me," he says with a reassuring smile as he heaves another chunk of concrete off of her bent steel prison. "Said we had to split up the knight in shining armor duties. He’s trying to find Thea. Diggle is not very mobile, thanks to my dad. Thank god CNRI was closed today. And it’s nice to meet you."

He moves the table and Felicity cries out as pain shoots down her leg. 

"I’m so sorry, Felicity." His hand closes around hers as he kneels, looking at the damage. She’s seeing spots, trying to count through the worst of the agony, and doesn’t realize she’s digging her nails into him until he hisses. 

"Oh my god, I think you’d better just cut it off." The tears running down her face belie her attempt at a light tone. "Who needs two legs anyway? One is plenty, right?"

He laughs to humor her, and slides an arm under her legs, wrapping the other around her shoulders. “I think it’s just broken, hero, but I am by no means the authority there. Let’s get you out of here.”

Her head is spinning from the pain, so she lets him loop her arms around his neck. 

"You have very pretty eyes," she says dazedly. "And I do not feel well."

Those pretty blue eyes look over her with worry. “Ok, you, hang in there. I have it on good authority that you are not allowed to do anything dramatic like dying.”

She lets her head sink against his chest as he picks his way across what is left of the lair. 

"I think I should get a turn to be dramatic. Why does Oliver always get to be dramatic? With the hood and the arrows and the muscly muscles…"

"You get all the dramatic moments for the next month," he promises her. 

"I’m gonna hold you to that, Merlyn," she whispers. "Maybe I’ll make you teach me the tango, once the cast comes off."

He laughs breathlessly, pausing halfway up the stairs. “I have the feeling this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship, Smoak, even if I can’t imagine just how you know my dance capabilities. Now relax and let me get you to the car.”


	42. Tommy/Felicity: Three's company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Tommy/Felicity/Oliver. They wake up in bed together. They don't remember getting there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt from absentlyabbie on tumblr.

The first thing Felicity notices is the ceiling. 

It’s not a particularly interesting ceiling. It’s blue, with the swirly pattern some ceilings have.

That’s only relevant because it is not HER ceiling. Hers is white. With stippling. 

Which means this is not her room. Or her bed. Interesting.

She thinks back to last night, wincing at the dull ache in her head. There had been a lot of tequila last night. They’d been at the club, celebrating a job well done, and she and Tommy had…

OH.

Right.

She turns her head cautiously to the left, and finds the dark haired man himself, curled up with a pillow, one hand idly playing with a few strands of her hair. 

His blue eyes are not nearly as bleary as they should be.

"Hi."

"Hey," he smiles. "How’s the head?"

"It’s been better," she whispers. They stare at each other, smiling, for a minute.

Then someone throws an arm over her waist.

Someone  _else._

Felicity freezes. 

Tommy looks pained, and reaches over to lift the arm up and off of her.

When her heart has slowed enough, she turns her head to the right. 

Oliver Queen is passed out, face down, and apparently feeling cuddly.

She turns back to Tommy and hisses, ”Was there something you two wanted to tell me?”

His eyes do that adorable crinkle that happens when he’s trying not to laugh, and he slides out of bed, running a hand through his hair before offering it to her.

"Long story, come this way."

She takes his hand and tries to ignore the frantic search for memories of last night’s shenanigans happening inside her head.

"How long? And just where are you… oh."

He opens the door and she gapes just a little at the expensive suite. There’s a sunken living area with a fire place, a fish tank, and what looks like a second bedroom off to the side. 

When she stops to stare, he circles back around, putting a hand on her back and steering her to the couch. She tucks her feet up under her and accepts the bottle of water he hands her. 

"So, spill. Why am I so hazy? And what was that in there?"

He sits down next to her, close enough to make the cushion shift beneath her.

"Do you remember the tequila?" he asks. She nods. "What about the rum? Or the wine?"

She winces. “Oh god, did I mix?”

"You did a little. I didn’t catch on until you were starting your first glass of wine." He shoots her an apologetic look. "Oliver started it, of course."

"Of course."

"He came back from that island with a lot of new talents," Tommy sighs, "but mixing tequila and wine is still not one of them."

She giggles, and that makes her headache worse, so she leans it back against the soft couch and feels the warmth of his arm on the back of the sofa.

"But we didn’t…"

"No! Not - no," he stutters. "I mean, we did a little, uh, you and I did some, but I realized how drunk you were and I promise nothing happened."

"So please explain why Oliver and you and I were all…"

"…in bed? Yeah. Thing is, when I finally talked you into sleeping, you told me I had to stay. And then drunk Oliver decided he had to defend your honor, and took the other side of the bed."

His face is priceless - half offended, half endearingly amused. Felicity wants to laugh, but her head is screaming at her to be still. She takes another swig of water.

"So no wild threesome I can’t remember?"

"No ma’am."

"Not even a twosome?"

His grin slips a little and he brushes some hair off her face. “I wouldn’t, you know that right? You were so totally adorable, and so completely blasted.”

She gives in to temptation and lets her head roll to the side, onto his shoulder. It’s warm and solid and after a minute he gathers her to him with his free arm. She snuggles into his side and sighs. 

"I know."

"Good." He kisses the top of her head. "And Oliver was just being his dopey self."

"Clearly. Keeping us safe from each other."

He huffs a laugh, but his fingers are dancing on her skin and her headache is less a roar and more a quiet moan. 

Then he slips a hand into her hair and starts massaging her scalp, and she does moan. 

"Oh yes please. How much do I have to pay you to keep doing that?"

His voice is rough when he responds, though he attempts a joke. “Just keep making those noises and I’ll be happy to."

"You know, for a guy who had me straddling him up against a wall last night at the club you’re awfully unsure this morning."

"Oh thank god," he says with a rush of air, "you remember that. I didn’t want to assume."

Between the water and his hands, the pain in her head has almost disappeared. Time to focus on more important things. 

"I remember most of it," she says, "but maybe we ought to reenact it. For science."

His eyes light up as she climbs onto his lap. “For science?”

Felicity leans down and touches her nose to his. “Hell yes.”

This time, they make sure to lock the bedroom door behind them. Just in case Oliver wakes up.


	43. Barry/Felicity: Take my hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Felicity/Barry flirting by flaunting their skills/technology to figure out the source of a poison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt from every-atom-of-your-existence on tumblr. (written PRE midseason finale)

"So the question is, is it the serum that’s killing these people?" Oliver sighed. 

"And who is behind it?" Digg grimaced in agreement, watching the photos Felicity had dug up scroll across the screen. They were itinerants, homeless, runaways, vulnerable. All dead. All bleeding from the eyes.

Felicity stood behind them, trying to pace out her nerves. 

A hand on her shoulder brought her up short.

"Sorry," Barry smiled down at her. He looked tired, his long night of reconciling the truth with their previous story showing in his drawn face. His hand slipped down to curl around hers. "Only, I think I’ve got something." His eyes were sparkling with discovery. 

He tugged her after him, leaving Oliver and Diggle followed them over to the temporary science lab they’d set up in the lair. She could feel Oliver’s gaze as it settled on their linked hands. Then Barry let go so he could gesticulate, and she glared at her boss with ruddy cheeks. 

"So we’ve been trying to deduce the ingredients needed for the serum, so  that Felicity can trace them to recent thefts," he nodded at her with a smile. "But I think maybe this is a better bet."

He typed in a few keystrokes and a chemical formula popped up on screen. 

Felicity blinked, “Barry, that’s brilliant!” She clapped and impulsively kissed him on the cheek. She didn’t miss the way he grinned and ducked his head. “I can absolutely - that’s exactly what we needed.”

She hurried off to her own computer bank. 

"Is this a date or a mission? What am I missing?" Oliver laugh was a bit wooden. 

"It’s not just you," Diggle said. "Finish the thought, Allen?"

Felicity tuned them out - after all, she had already made the logical leaps he was gently leading the rest of the team through. The chemical compound was too volatile for normal storage - in small doses it could be handled in a syringe, but a larger amount of the stuff would need a special container, able to withstand its corrosive tendencies.

And she could trace those.

"So, you see, it would need to be something lined with a non-reactive metal, maybe even insulated so that temperature changes wouldn’t start the combustion, and so I’m sure Felicity -"

"Got it," she said, catching herself with a fist halfway up. "The only shipment of anything close to those requirements was to Forest Chemical, four months ago. They reported one stolen, but the cops never found any leads."

"Any unusual activity around their factory leading up the the theft?" Oliver strode over, intrigued.

"They have security cameras, and they keep them for six months," Felicity hummed her approval. "Just a minute."

"Wow," Barry’s appreciative voice cut through the silence. "It takes most of the CSI techs hours to - oh, and you’ve got them in date order, too? Felicity, you’re amazing."

"You know it," she grinned. "Here we go!" 

A grainy video of the factory floor sped by them, shifts changed, lights came on and off, and then a flotilla of suited men turned up.

"Can you-" Diggle started.

"Of course I can," she scoffed, already enhancing the image. Blood’s smarmy face smiled up at them. "He visited the factory the day before they were robbed."

Oliver was already suiting up, Diggle checking his guns and preparing to go in as backup. 

"Be careful, guys," Felicity said seriously. They nodded and were gone. 

She turned to find Barry standing wide-eyed behind her. 

"So he just…"

"Yeah."

"And John?"

"Always."

"So that makes you…"

"I mean, I do what I can," she grinned without a shred of modesty. "They’d be lost without me."

"We would," Diggle agreed over comms, "but you know we can hear you, right?"

"Oh! Right," she stammered, "Sorry, Digg. Just flirting with -  _talking to_ Barry about how we… you know what? Why don’t you just tell me when you’re in position.”

She hit mute and winced at her own ability to make the worst of a good situation.

But Barry was smiling. “Flirting, huh? So my dancing didn’t scare you off. How long until they’re in position?”

"Um, it should take about 15 minutes," she said, glancing at the screen for confirmation. "And no, I like a good sway every now and then."

He looked shy, and then took a deep breath and said in a rush, “Wecoulddoitagain.”

Felicity laughed. “Why, Mr. Allen, are you asking me to dance?”

"Sway!" he said, shaking his head at her. "Or, you know, we could always talk about the alloys that Oliver could use to give his arrows better-"

"-penetration," her eyes lit up. "Oh, I’ve been working on a formula…" 

This time it was her hand around his, tugging him after her to the table where she had blueprints and designs laid out. They had 15 minutes, after all. 

Best. Date. Ever. 


	44. Tommy/Felicity: Shorts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5-sentence prompt fills featuring Tommy/Felicity. (first sentence was the prompt)

There was a perfectly sensible reason behind Tommy Merlyn no longer being allowed to play poker, he was having trouble recalling just why at the moment.

Possibly that last shot of whiskey had been a mistake, as the bouncer’s face was wobbling dangerously from side to side. Or, actually, it was more likely that he was wobbling and the bouncer was just fine, and very determined that he was not allowed inside the card room.

Well that was goddamn unacceptable, and he was going to put a stop to it just as soon as he found Oliver for backup.

"Hey, buddy, you got away from me there," the man himself hurried up behind him, nodding to the bouncer and slipping a firm arm around Tommy’s shoulders.

"Come on, you know we promised the girls we’d leave them to their bachelorette madness," he tugged Tommy back toward the bar. "Your only job tonight, my friend, is to drink to your upcoming wedded bliss, and to try very hard  _not_  to imagine what Felicity and Thea have gotten themselves up to in the meantime.”

******

Tommy stroked his hand slowly down the bare expanse of skin along Felicity's spine, caught for a moment in just how smooth and soft she felt under his palm.

"You ready?" he asked softly, under the hum of the music. "We need to make this believable."

She smiled up at him, and said under her breath, “Stop worrying and grab my ass, Merlyn.”

He sighed but complied, throwing in a lewd wink and ghosting his lips on her neck for extra emphasis - he felt her stiffen beneath the unexpected caress and bit back a smile. 

Then she slapped the hell out of him.

"How dare you!" she screamed, shoving him back against the bar and sending drinks flying in all directions - exactly the cover Oliver needed to swap out the human trafficking ringleader’s phone for the bugged one. "I thought you respected me, I thought we had something special!" 

All eyes were on her and her tight black dress as she flounced away from him, and several men hurried up to offer her their arms he noticed grimly. 

"She does an excellent impression of a woman wronged," John Diggle said from just behind him. "All clear, better go make up so you can get her out of here before the showdown."

Tommy grinned. “With pleasure.”

******

Felicity swung a leg over Tommy's hips, climbing atop him as their mouths parted and she said against his lips, "It's just sex; it doesn't mean anything." 

"Felicity," he growled, pushing her skirt to the side so he could run his hands up her legs, "less talking, more touching."

She hummed her agreement, catching her breath as he moved to tease the ticklish insides of her thighs, then slid a hand up under her sheer button-down and the nude tank top underneath. 

"I’m not, oh god right there," her breathless attempt to answer made him smile against her lips. When she pulled away slightly, clearly intending to keep talking, he grinned and took it as a challenge. "I’m bad at the no talking thing - mmm yes - but I’ll do, I-I’ll do my damnedest if you just keep doing  _that_.”

He stretched up to nip at her pulse point, and finished his work divesting her of her shirts before pulling her back down to him. “I changed my mind,” he said against her flushed skin, “talk all you want.”

******

"You might want to put on pants."

"I never want to put on pants," she groaned, rolling over and pulling her pillow over her head to block out both his voice and the encroaching sunlight. 

"And while I completely support that inclination," Tommy smiled, sitting down on the edge of the bed to rub a hand up and down her back, "you were the one who invited seven people over for the housewarming."

"It was a terrible idea, send them all away," Felicity muttered, but the soothing motion of his hand had her relaxing into him, and she put the pillow back underneath her head. "And keep doing that."

"Listen here, Smoak," he said sternly, slipping a hand down to her ribs and running his fingers lightly along her side until it was so ticklish she shivered away from him with a glare. "You cooked all day yesterday, Laurel’s bringing pie, Oliver has promised to be on time, and I think Thea might cry if she doesn’t get to instagram the entire house soon."

"You’re the least supportive…" her head popped up, and she looked toward the door. "Do I smell bacon?" He laughed and kissed her cheek, nodding. "Oh, I do love you."

******

"Tommy!" Felicity swung into him out of nowhere, fingers snatching at his lapels and body crashing against his with her momentum as she stared him in the eye and whispered, low and urgent, "I need you to kiss me."

"If I have to," he said with a grin, but it faded at the panic in her eyes.

He leaned down, kissing her hard, his lips moving over hers as his hands slid around to pull her in close to him. He spun her to the wall of his Merlyn Global office and kissed up her neck, whispering as he did so, “What’s going on Felicity?”

"Oh, right," her voice was breathy and distracted, so he pulled back with a small smile, giving her just enough room to focus, "yeah, security caught me in your father’s office, well they didn’t catch me but, uh, they definitely got the camera feed back and saw me inside and I giggled on my way out and said I was looking for you and they said that wasn’t the same Mr. Merlyn, and I may have implied that we’re sleeping together."

Tommy considered this, leaning back down to kiss her collarbone. “Did you plant the device?” She nodded, her eyes a bit unfocused. “Then we just have to sell your story. Ready?”

 


	45. Oliver/Felicity: Shorts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5-sentence prompt fills with Oliver/Felicity. (the first sentence is the prompt)

Felicity wasn't quite sure how she ended up demonstrating this particular yoga move on top of Tommy, but she wasn't really complaining either.

Did she feel a little bit like Rose in Titanic, with her arms thrown wide as she balanced her abs on his extended legs, several feet up in the air? 

Yes, a little bit - okay, a lot - and “My Heart Will Go On” was a perfectly reasonable song to have stuck in one’s head at such a time. 

Tommy grunted beneath her, and she glanced down at him. “You’re humming,” he said with a smile, “and yes I do know that tune, Kate Winslet.”

And just like that, she was flying - well, if being plucked from her perch by Oliver Queen counted. He set her on her feet and glared at the two of them, “I’m still not sending you in as circus performers, Tommy.”

******

If there is one thing that Oliver should not be noticing right now, it's the fact that Felicity is wearing a new perfume.

Hell, he shouldn’t be noticing how she smells at all, not when she’s bleeding all over his backseat and Digg’s driving full tilt for the safety of the lair and the medical supplies there. 

He’s keeping pressure on her side, and despite the pounding fear in his head, he knows enough about wounds to be certain that this one’s survivable. Which is perhaps why his head is casting about for anything to distract him from the metallic tang of her blood in the air - and so he’s fixated on the citrus tones that drift up from her hair when he brushes it away from her face. 

It’s nice, and he’s going to tell her that, when she’s conscious and safe and… he’s going to tell her he likes the new perfume. 

And then he’s going to thank her for saving his life. 

******

"What happened to not being with someone you could end up really caring for, Oliver?"

Felicity glared at the empty room, her question going unanswered by her four living room walls. She dug her spoon into the carton of ice cream and groaned, “Felicity Smoak, you have got to stop talking to yourself.”

"No, please," the amused voice behind her had her whirling in her seat to see Sara Lance, leaning casually against the doorjamb, "I’m quite enjoying it. What did the hooded idiot do this time?"

"Sara!" Felicity threw her ice cream spoon at the leather-clad assassin, mostly to see her pluck it out of the air without seeming to move. "You’re supposed to use doors. And he - well, see the thing is, we were on a mission and he said we needed to blend in, and then it happened again, and there wasn’t much of a need to blend, and now I don’t really know what his excuse is, only he keeps kissing me and it’s very distracting and  we haven’t talked about it and he said he can’t be with anyone he’d really care about, but let’s face it, at this point even without the kissing we care about each other and so I’m pretty sure he’s going to come to his senses any minute now and go back to his heroic sulking, which would be a shame because  _shit_  the man can kiss.”

Sara waited her out, folding her legs under her on the couch and reaching for the softening ice cream. “That he can, Felicity. So here’s what you’re going to do the next time it happens,” she said with a wicked grin, leaning in to whisper a few pointed suggestions into Felicity’s ear. “That’ll get his attention.”

******

Moira has to try *way* too hard to keep the smile off her face when she says, "Good morning, Felicity."

"Oh, Mrs. Queen," Felicity’s hands fly to her hair, and then to her wrinkled clothes, "I really had hoped I could sneak home without - that is, you have to understand, well you don’t have to do anything of course - this is NOT what it looks like."

Oliver pads out of the room, shirtless and sleepy. “Hi, Mom,” he leans in to kiss her cheek. “Felicity’s staying with us for a couple of days.”

"That’s nice, Oliver," Moira says, kissing him back. "Go put a shirt on please."

"Yes, definitely, wear clothes," Felicity grumbles as he rolls his eyes and obeys. 

Alone again, Moira watches Felicity fidget before taking pity on her. “Thea’s room is the third on the right - if you ask her, I’m sure she’ll have some clothes you can borrow. I can’t promise she’s going to be very coherent yet. Breakfast is at 8:30.”

Felicity turns to go, her face red, and Moira calls after her, “If Roy is still here, please remind him that they agreed not to miss meals anymore.”

Moira finally smiles as she descends to the kitchen to alert the cook to their extra guest. Her children certainly like to think they have her fooled. 


	46. Tommy/Feliciy: Undead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zombie and vampires.

"So let me get this straight," Felicity said slowly, eyes locked on Tommy's, "you're not only NOT dead, you are undead--and," she brought her hand to her throat, fingers exploring, "there are HOLES in my neck."

His slightly green face winced in answer. Apparently being undead was not especially kind to your vocal cords. 

But otherwise it was, unmistakably, Tommy Merlyn standing in front of her. 

"Holes in my neck, though?" She was pacing back and forth in the dim parking lot where he’d shaken her awake, wordlessly conveying that she was to get up and get moving. "That’s not a very zombie way to attack me."

His bloodshot blue eyes rolled - they actually rolled. 

"So not you, then?"

Tommy put a hand up to hold his ear in place, then shook his head firmly.

"And you don’t know why you’re a zombie?"

He shrugged, but pointed again to her neck, and to the parking lot’s exit a few hundred yards away. 

"Did you see who attacked me?"

He nodded, continuing to point and so forgetting to secure his ear. It slid sideways with a squish. 

"Is that a direction? What exactly are you trying to tell me?" Felicity squinted at him, wondering why she felt so normal despite her minimal clothing and the cold night and the  _holes in her neck._

Tommy gave up on the wordless communication, and reach two grimy hands for her shoulders. Despite herself she cringed, but he just turned her bodily to face the parking lot exit. 

There were three shadowy figures standing there. No, wait, they were floating. How were they floating?

"Oh god," she said very quietly. "Are you telling me those are the people who attacked me?"

He dropped her shoulders and put one of his decaying hands in hers. When he tugged, one of his fingers came loose and she looked up at him. 

"Time to run?"

And they did.


	47. Thea/Felicity: And who are you?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thea catches Felicity in the club during off hours.

Thea recognizes the blonde from the hospital of course, the one who brought the flowers, but she frowns, pretending she doesn't as she asks, "Who the hell are you and what are you doing at my club?"

"Your - oh right,  _your_ club,” Felicity answers slowly. “Well you see, it’s kind of a funny story.”

"Do tell."

"I work for your brother," she holds out a tentative hand. "Felicity Smoak, formerly of IT, now stuck doing shitty clerical work and juggling calendars and never getting him coffee."

Thea can’t quite restrain her smile, and shakes the still-offered hand. 

"Right, so, he used to work out of the club a lot, before… well, before it was your club, and so I was feeling kind of nostalgic and wanted to see how the place had changed and I just… I didn’t expect the door to be open, honestly."

It’s a blatant lie, and Thea recognizes it as such. But Oliver walking through the door keeps her from asking the next question.

"Thea!" He sounds jolly and wrong. "I didn’t know you’d be here."

"I just stopped by to see what the club looks like, now," Felicity says quickly, glaring in his direction. 

"Well that’s lucky," he grins. "I was going to have to go through some old papers in the basement by myself, but now I will have my trusty assistant’s help."

"Oliver, it’s Saturday," Thea says with a raised eyebrow. 

"I pay overtime," he winks, heading for that door he still refuses to unlock for her.

Felicity watches him go. “Oh god, don’t hate me. I’m sorry. I panic lie so badly.”

"Just don’t fuck my brother in my basement," Thea says with a wry smile.

The blonde looks - well, she looks almost hurt by the joke. 

"I should have just told you we’d be going through old papers. He was so damn vague when he called me in that I wasn’t sure what the job was today, and I didn’t want to…"

"Felicity!" Oliver calls from the hall. 

"It’s fine," Thea smiles, genuinely this time. "He’s a dick. Next time you drop by we can bemoan his many terrible qualities over vodka."

The flash of a returned smile is surprisingly snarky, Thea notes with delight. 

"I’m more of a tequila girl, myself," Felicity says as she heads over to an impatient Oliver. "But you’re on."


	48. Thea/Tommy: Comparing notes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thea and Tommy finally get a chance to discuss the mess that is Oliver and Felicity.

"So, wait. She became his assistant and people thought they were sleeping together when they weren't. And now she's *not* his assistant and nobody knew they were finally sleeping together?"

Thea stares at Tommy, who grimaces and nods. “That’s pretty much it, yeah.”

"Oh god," she says with a groan. "Ollie’s the actual worst. At life."

He runs a hand through his hair and looks like he’s searching for something to say. She gets there first.

"But, Felicity is really cool."

"She is," he hurries to agree. 

"And she never puts up with his shit."

"Never."

"But she let him make her his assistant even though people…"

"He said he needed her help," Tommy makes a hopeless gesture. "He also changed her job title without telling her."

"Oh, holy fuck. My brother is a giant tool."

"Well he’s learned a bit since then," Tommy smiles. 

"God, I hope so."

They sit in silence, lost in their own thoughts. She’s the first to break it.

"So if nobody knows, how do you know?"

"Oh, there’s a story I desperately need to tell. So you know how Felicity was involved in that hit and run a few weeks ago? Oliver calls me out of the blue and tells me I have to go to the hospital RIGHT NOW and not leave her side and he’s very serious. So I’m expecting blood and gore, and she’s just got a bump on her head and a nasty scrape on her arm. But he’d asked, so I sat with her for a few hours while we waited for her to get released - but then it turned out that the nurses had instructions NOT to release her and then the fire of a righteous Smoak rained down on them and we were just leaving the building when Oliver pulled up."

Thea sinks into her chair, enthralled.

"She lit into him immediately about her life and her choices and he had no right, and he just walks up and kisses the hell out of her." He shakes his head. "Like, I stood there awkwardly for about three minutes while they all but removed each others’ clothing. Then he apologized, and she apologized, and there was a lot of eye sex and they held hands all the way to his car. Oliver called me like an hour later to apologize for leaving me there, and I could hear Felicity shouting instructions at him for a proper apology."

"But you don’t know for sure?"

"Well I walked in on them once, too, but the eye sex is really what sold me."


	49. Thea/Oliver: Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A missing conversation.

"You can't do this, not after all of this time, I deserve more than this."

Thea was in tears, her black dress wrinkled from where she’d thrown herself across Ollie’s bed after the funeral. Tommy’s funeral. 

They had just come home from Tommy’s funeral and Oliver was  _packing._

"Thea," his voice was heavy with weariness and guilt, "I can’t stay here. Everything about here is… wrong when I’m part of it."

"What about me?" she asked desperately. "Ollie, don’t leave me again."

He bent down and scooped her into a bear hug. “Speedy,” he promised, “you’ll have Walter. And Diggle will look after you.” Then, before she could answer, he set her bag down and hefted his duffel bag. “I just - I can’t.”

And he was gone. Again. Walking down the stairs and leaving her with a gaping hole where her family was supposed to be.

"But I need  _you_ , you giant idiot,” she whispered to the empty room, alone again.


	50. Team Arrow: Mascot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team Arrow gets a cat.

The sweet little tabby adopted them on Christmas.

Felicity was killing some time in the lair, using that holiday quiet that always hit work and friendships to upgrade the software on the secret machines. Diggle and Oliver were celebrating, she hoped, and she had the place to herself.

She was on her hands and knees, crawling under a desk to find the server’s manual power button when she heard the faint mewl.

"What the hell?" she said out loud, backing up so fast that she hit her head on the edge of the desk. 

The cat was curled in a coil of ethernet cables, quietly grooming herself. She looked skinny, but clean, and she purred as Felicity approached her.

"Who are you?" she cooed. "And how the hell did you get in through keypad locked doors?"

The cat blinked its green eyes at her and resumed grooming. Right, she wasn’t going to get answers from a cat.

And breach by cat wasn’t really a good enough reason to disturb Oliver or Diggle on Christmas.

She could find the hole.

Three hours later, she was dusty and much less optimistic. She’d checked every wiring port, all of the pipes and vents, and nothing seemed loose enough to admit a stray cat.

"Well," she glowered at the sleeping animal. "Now what do I do with you?"

Stores were closed, she couldn’t just run out and buy some food. She scrounged in the minifridge and found a slightly old tuna sandwich she’d been meaning to finish. 

"Here, are you hungry?"

The cat opened one eye and stretched, feigning disinterest. But her tail was twitching with excitement. 

Felicity lay the sandwich on the floor and backed away. As soon as she was a safe distance, the grey cat leapt delicately out of her makeshift bed and began to nibble at the tunafish.

After that, the cat started following her around the lair, rubbing her head on Felicity’s jeans or curling in the scarf she’d casually thrown on her desk when she’d arrived.

When the updates were done for the night, Felicity looked down at her. 

"I’m not allowed to have pets at home," she whispered. "I can’t take you with me."

She leaned over and scratched the cat under her chin, amazed at the strong purring.

"May I have my scarf, please?"

The cat did not move. Felicity sighed, and shook her head. 

"You’re going to drive Oliver nuts," she said. "I guess that means you should stay."

******

Felicity and Diggle named her Liz, and called her “the one true Queen” whenever Oliver was around. 

He grumbled and argued until Felicity caught him practicing with Liz perched on his shoulder.

"She makes me focus on my balance," he said defensively.

The next day, Liz had a new scratching post and a plush bed. She dragged the scarf that Felicity had sacrificed over to it and curled up contentedly.

Diggle took to stocking tuna and cat food in one of the lockers, and Felicity worked out a way to handle the litter box.

Liz was perfect. Just what the lair had needed. One pet, calm and contained. 

It wasn’t until the next time Sara visited that they figured it out.

She was filling them in on the news out of the League of Assassins and Moira Queen’s contact of their leader when Liz rubbed up against her leg. 

The blonde glanced down, then at each of them, finally settling on Diggle.

"Why do you have a pregnant cat in your cave?"

******

She had four kittens. One, Oliver gave to Thea. One, John gave to AJ. The runt Felicity took to her mother, who’d been feeling lonely since their asthmatic tomcat had died.

But little Tomtom they couldn’t part with. His black coat and blue eyes and tendency to bat at Oliver’s face when he was tired got him his name.

And once he was named for Tommy Merlyn, he wasn’t going anywhere.


	51. Felicity: Hard edge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Suddenly I would like to see somebody write me a Felicity doing something really violent. As a conscious choice. Revenge on some asshole who did something awful to her, threatened her life or someone else’s. But I want to see her do something brutal. And not be sorry. Firm in her conviction about it.

"And I suppose none of them bothered to teach you any of their fighting skills," the one-eyed man coos, bending over to invade her personal space with all the assurance of a seasoned and ruthless fighter. "Perhaps you should have accepted Oliver’s offer of your own bodyguard."

Felicity grits her teeth and looks around the room at the others. Roy, broken and bloody and hanging limply from the ceiling. Sara, bound and gagged and furious. Diggle, unconscious and handcuffed to a solid metal bar. Detective Lance, whose complexion is far too grey for her to comfortably say that he is slumped over in sleep.

She is the weak link, of course. The only person in the room who isn’t a threat. The one he’s left mostly free, the one he can brag to and wave in Oliver’s face.

Oliver is coming. That’s what Slade wants. A final confrontation.

Well, fuck that.

It takes her seconds to grab the gun off the table. Another few to release the safety and raise it to his good eye.

"They taught me a few things," she says coldly.

Then she pulls the trigger and scatters his brain across the upscale office carpet.

Oliver finds her there, a few minutes later, calmly cutting the team loose. The gun is back on the table and her blue eyes are hard.


	52. Team Arrow: Silly T-shirts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: http://absentlyabbie.tumblr.com/post/72292558150/yosuke-rollin-in-a-trash-can-these-shirts

Felicity was the one who found the website. 

Of course.

John and Oliver didn’t fill their free time with web browsing, and so her squeal of excitement brought them running for much more serious reasons.

"What is it?" Oliver looked over her shoulder and relaxed. Not the latest crime in Starling City.

T-shirts.

"Oh my god, if this wasn’t only in women’s styles, I would buy it for Barry.  _The only running I do is running late._ Ha! Ooooh, Diggle, this one is perfect for you,” Felicity said pointing at the screen. It was a baseball T with bright pink sleeves that read  _I’m always hungry or tired_.

Oliver glanced over at his brother in arms and caught the silly grin on his face. 

"I don’t know where you’d get that impression," Diggle said, swiftly stowing his smile so he looked properly disapproving when she turned around. 

"Oh please, Mr. Are-you-going-to-finish-those-fries," she shook her head. "Like we haven’t noticed how good you’re getting at catnaps. It’s an important skill for an old man. And you’d look good in pink."

They laughed, and went back to work. 

But a week later, a package arrived on John’s doorstep. 

******

John wore the shirt around the lair, to Felicity’s delight, and planned his revenge. 

He drafted Oliver to help and they combed through the site, choosing two that they thought would make Felicity laugh. 

They both liked it when Felicity laughed.

They stored them in John’s locker, so she wouldn’t stumble onto them while organizing. Felicity liked a neat workspace, and sometimes that necessitated a music-blaring, heels off, sleeve-rolled-up hour of neatening. 

She normally got John to help, and would leave Oliver something easy. Today it was sweeping.

"Felicity, you’re being absurd. I can do that," Oliver said, waiting patiently where he’d been placed when a sneeze had prompted a thorough dusting of the equipment shelves. 

"I don’t have time to teach you how to wipe a shelf properly," she griped. "You’ll just move the dust around and make it all worse." The top shelf was still just out of reach, despite her tiptoe balance on one of the concrete blocks Oliver sometimes used for training. "We don’t actually  _use_ anything we put up that high, do we?”

Oliver glanced at John, who paused in his own shelf cleaning and nodded at him. 

Felicity looked dubiously at each of them, and they straightened their faces and finished out the hour diligently. When she went to wash the dust off her hands, John laid the first t-shirt on her chair. 

"We’re going to have to buy a stool. But isn’t this better? We can almost breathe down here… why are you giving Oliver twenty dollars? I may be wrong, but he generally pays you, Digg."

She sat down, squirming a bit at the unfamiliar bulge on her chair. 

"See, we had this bet," Oliver said with a satisfied grin. 

"What did I tell you about putting things in my…" Felicity yanked the shirt out from under her and stared at it. "Well that’s pretty damn true."

"Can’t reach it, don’t need it," John said. "I thought you’d appreciate the bubble letters."

Felicity’s laugh echoed through the lair, followed closely by a carefully thrown ballpoint pen that John just managed to duck. 

"I love it." She grinned. "But we’re still buying an actual stool."

******

Having already won the bet, Oliver was primed to surprise her with the final t-shirt. He and Digg had both agreed that the woman with two demanding jobs valued sleep well above parties.

Only Felicity never complained. 

It was a brutal three weeks. They held all-night strategy sessions where Felicity texted him her thoughts on the tech side of the plan and took notes with only the slightest wrinkle of her nose. They chased a drug-fueled armed robber for three days, working in shifts, and the shadows under her eyes were dark enough that even Oliver noticed. They worked Saturdays. Then Sundays. 

She chattered, she suggested, she argued, she researched, she cajoled, she organized and she supported.

But she did not complain about being tired. 

So Oliver invited her to a party. He expected her to decline. It had been weeks of non-stop work, and she had earned the free weekend. Diggle had already left for the night. 

"For Thea?" she asked, running some background searches for any activity that the Arrow needed to be aware of. He nodded, peeling off his green leather jacket and stretching his tired muscles.

"Yeah, it’s her six month anniversary of taking over Verdant," he said. "She’s having a special DJ and a private party."

She blinked, tiredly, and he prepared for the punchline. The funny t-shirt that would make her smile on her way home. 

"Yeah, sure. Sounds fun. And it’s great that she’s doing so well."

He stared after her as she headed home to change. Then he texted Diggle and dragged himself upstairs to face the music. 

The party was loud, filled with kids Thea’s age. In a bow to her status as bar owner, she’d required IDs and wristbands for liquor, and Oliver stood impatiently while the giggling barmaid fitted him with a neon orange indicator that he was, indeed, old enough to drink. 

But the DJ was good, and Thea was radiantly happy. He pulled up a stool and watched the crowd bump and grind for a few minutes, enjoying seeing his little sister come into her own as hostess.

"Well, this doesn’t really go with my dress." 

Felicity slid onto the stool next to him, neatly beating out a pair of college coeds who’d been whispering and edging in his direction. He was surprised at the relief he felt. She held up her “above age” wristband and he took a moment to appreciate the rest of her - tousled hair, red lips and a canary yellow dress that showed a lot of leg. 

She still looked tired, but only because he knew what she looked like when she was full of verve and energy. 

"But it does get you access to the open bar," he said with a grin. "I think that’s how Thea got most of my old friends to come."

Right on cue, one such friend came over to finagle an introduction and ask Felicity to dance. 

He didn’t see much of her after that. 

The party was clearing out around 2 am, with Thea heading to an afterparty at another club, and he still hadn’t seen her leave.

His heart sped up a bit as he ducked in and out of dark corners, checking booths and bathrooms. 

Thea kissed his cheek and told him to get some sleep, and he asked her if she’d seen the girl in the yellow dress.

"Oh, your assistant? She was dancing with Luke for a while, but then she said she got an email she had to deal with and snuck into the back." Thea shrugged. "You really shouldn’t make her work on a Friday night."

Oliver had already checked the back hallway. Twice.

He shot off a quick  _Did you leave?_ text, and paced as the staff started cleanup.

When she didn’t answer that, he decided to track her phone. He pulled his suit jacket off and punched in the code to the basement. He was halfway down the stairs when he saw it. 

A curled up ball of yellow dress and blonde hair pillowed on the training mat.

She was fast asleep. 

Oliver winced, feeling more deeply the selfishness of his motives tonight. He had wanted to be silly and have her to react a certain way, but Felicity took her job very seriously, and part of that job was supporting his family. Of course she’d decided to come. 

He made a quick detour to the lockers to grab the offending t-shirt, and smiled at how soundly asleep she was. Thank god for the locked lair door. 

"Felicity," he said softly, crouching down next to her. "Time to go home."

She grumbled and nodded, but didn’t open her eyes.

Oliver considered. Then he reached over and scooped her into his arms. 

"What do you think you are doing?" 

Her words were sleepy and slurred, but she was alert enough to slit her eyes at him as he wrapped her in his discarded suit jacket. 

"You didn’t seem inclined to move."

She was quiet for a minute, and he waited calmly for her to decide how much her pride was worth to her.

"I’m not," she agreed finally, tucking her head back against his arm. "So tired."

"Sorry about the party," he said, carrying her up the stairs and out the back entrance to the Lexus he’d driven from the office. 

She was already asleep again. 

When he buckled her in, he tucked the rolled up  _I like to party, and by party I mean take naps_  t-shirt under her head as a pillow.

He didn’t see her for the rest of the weekend, and she didn’t say anything about finding it on her couch.

But she wore it to the staff retreat the following week with a sparkle in her eye. 


End file.
